Fate Will Play Us Out: The Story of Owlet
by uniquefreak13
Summary: Mona Ryder used to be normal, until her parents were murdered by an activist group that remains innocent in the eyes of the public. Suiting up as the misunderstood Owlet will she avenge her parents with the help of Batman and Robin or only die trying? TEMPORARY HIATUS
1. In the Beginning

In the Beginning

I used to always wonder how crime fighters got their start, how they decided to battle evil, why they did what they did. People like The Flash, The Green Arrow, Hell, even Superman all fascinated me, both with and without their powers. But the most inspiring of all superheroes to me had always been good old Batman, mostly because his home turf was Gotham City, where I had lived all my life. I'd always looked up to the Caped Crusader, but mostly it was his motivation that I wanted to know. What made the Bat tick? What went on in the Dark Knight's head?

But of course, I wasn't anyone special so it wasn't like the opportunity to interview Batman would come up anytime soon. The emphasis in that sentence should be I wasn't anyone special, because now I'm important. Now I'm worthy of mentioning. Now I'm on the front page, sharing the headline with Batman. I wasn't famous as myself, obviously. A regular kid wasn't going to make the news. But a superhero kid, that's something to write about.

And it just so happened I knew a superhero kid who wasn't Robin, Boy Wonder. Quite the opposite, in fact. The superhero is me.

The path to my becoming Owlet was long, winding, and quite honestly painful. The years that led up to Owlet's appearance tested me more than I could've thought possible. Perhaps I'll start in the beginning, so this all makes sense…

My name is Mona Ryder and I'm a normal kid. I go to school, I eat cereal, I tie my shoes, I breathe air. Need any more proof? Normal kids usually have a family though, and a family is the only thing I'm lacking. You see, I've got a rather unique story to that.

My parents were brilliant scientists, dedicated to giving humans the same abilities as animals. They wanted swimmers to be able to get up to speeds of a shark or a runner to be as fast as a cheetah. My parents conducted countless experiments on willing volunteers with hundreds of positive results. But not everybody agreed with my parent's ideas, which is where HAVEN comes in.

HAVEN is a human rights group which stands for Humans Actively Vanquishing Evil Nationally. The group itself sounds innocent enough, right? At first they were, HAVEN just wanted to stop hunger in the US and give homes to the hobos. Their causes were noble but soon they grew to be anything but. The moment HAVEN caught wind of my parent's experiments, they protested nonstop, trying to get my parents' work banned. The problem was that the public thought the experiments my parents were doing were actually cool, for the most part at least.

So HAVEN sent angry letters, they protested outside my parent's lab which conveniently enough was at our giant mansion just outside Gotham City limits. HAVEN never bothered my parents. In fact, the human rights group was actually giving my parents more success at publicizing their finds. In a matter of weeks, my parent's pictures were always splayed across the front page of Gotham Times.

One day that all changed, though. I was 13 at the time, barely getting into teenager-dom. My parents were constantly telling me off for my bad attitude, but we all knew I was just trying to get attention. I usually occupied my parent's lab during my free time. I was tutored at home so I didn't have to worry about ever going to school.

It was the day my parents perfected the Owl Suit that they died. Yes, died. As in kicked the bucket, bought the farm, pushing daisies, etc. The Owl Suit was probably the coolest invention they'd ever made, though. It was a full body suit made out of silky grey material that had wings built into the sleeves so when the arms were spread, fully functional wings would pop out, giving you the flight of an owl. The owl suit was completely secret, only I and my parents knew about it because they wanted to keep their future projects secret from the public eye, quickly growing sick of the constant things in the paper about them.

I sat in my dad's large lab chair, twirling around as he and my mom put the finishing touches on the suit. On my feet were my parent's first successful invention; lightweight shoes that gave you the traction and stability of a jaguar. The shoes were way too big for me but I always liked the way they looked with their fast looking black stripes on the matte black shoe. I had the shoes laced tightly so they wouldn't fall off my too small feet.

"Mona," my dad called. I looked up at him seeing pride written all over his face. He held a limp bundle of silvery grey fabric that looked slightly silky and satiny in the lights of the lab. "We finished it, Mona! It works!" The biggest grin I'd ever seen lit up my dad's face as he let me gingerly take the suit from him. It felt like silky water in my hands as it slid over my skin. It was slightly stretchy but it didn't look like it would be at all.

"Can I try it out?" I asked eagerly, holding the suit by the shoulders. It was taller than me by an inch or two, obviously too big to be useful. Yet I still looked up to my dad for his answer.

He chuckled. "Consider it yours, Mona my dear. An early birthday present. Just use it wisely." He ruffled my hair affectionately.

Those were the last words my dad ever said to me. A loud bang like a gunshot or an explosion flooded my ears. On the other side of the lab my mother began to scream as bright orange flames started to grow. My dad quickly ran to my mom, another explosion happening as he sprinted. I was thrown off my feet by the blast, slammed into the corner of a metal filing cabinet which proceeded to cut my forehead. Dazed, I got up, looking around for my parents. The flames had begun to spread now, towering over me as they consumed my parent's work. A tall wooden pillar that supported the roof of our old mansion began to break into pieces, falling to the ground in burning sections. I saw it falling but I was too late to run away as a moderately sized chunk of wood slammed me in the gut. At that moment I first realized true pain, and let me tell you, it's not something you can forget. The flames of the log burned through my shirt, blistering my flesh as I tried not to scream so my newly broken ribs wouldn't puncture my lungs.

With power I didn't know I possessed, I shoved the log off, grabbing the Owl Suit and fighting my way out of the lab. Debris fell down around me but I paid no attention even as it hit my head and shoulders. The only thing I could focus on was finding a way out. The fire seemed to have turned the lab into a labyrinth where flames met me around every corner. I stopped to catch my breath, suddenly very aware of the sweat pouring down my face, the heat of the flames, the pain of a few broken ribs in my flesh. A small voice told me that if I sat down, everything would be so much easier. If I just gave up and died in this fire I wouldn't have to deal with the pain of losing my parents or the pain of my injuries.

"NO!" I shouted to the flames that were eating away my parent's lab. "NO! HELP! HELP ME!" My voice was hoarse and cracked but I swear that I'd never shouted louder before in my life. Yet no matter how loud I yelled, I only head the deafening crackle of the fire. A hacking cough wracked through my chest and pain pierced me like a knife.

"C'mon, ducky," a familiar voice said in my ear, my governess, Jilliane Conrad, helping me up. She supported me, pulling my limp body from the lab. I could barely support myself, my muscles seemed to suddenly give out and as we burst into the hall, I collapsed to the floor, coughing, attempting to get the vile smoke from my lungs. Tears streamed down my face, finding their way into my mouth. I tasted salt and soot but it only reminded me of sadness, if sadness had a taste.

"We've got to get them!" I yelled at Jilliane, referring to my parents in the flaming lab. Jilliane only looked at me sadly, telling me with her eyes that it was already too late for them.

Painful sobs shook my body, but it didn't stop me from crying out. Jilliane didn't wait for me to stop crying, though. Before I knew it, I was being dragged away from the lab, from my home, until I was sprawled across my front lawn, crying, waiting for help that I knew would be too late. I was treated for some injuries on my lawn. In the long term I was stuck in the Hospital for at least a week while I healed after all the legal matters were taken care of.

My parents were pronounced dead after the firemen had gotten into the lab. All that remained of them were two charred corpses, holding onto each other as they died (or so I was told by a kindly fireman who'd seen their remains). The funeral was a week later, right after I got released from the Hospital. The doctors had told me the cut on my forehead would heal completely, but I'd have some permanent burn scars from the pillar that had fallen on me. In a way I was glad I had the scars. I wanted something to show for the fact I'd been in a life altering experience. It didn't matter to me that wearing bikinis would suddenly become inconvenient of changing out in gym class would be awkward.

I was the only attendant to my parents' funeral besides the priest, grave diggers, and the mortuary director. Oh, and my lawyer, forgot about him. He stood far away from the service, hidden in the cemetery's shadowed depths. The service was closed casket, though I doubt there was much to put in the casket at all. When my lawyer had suggested just cremating the rest of their remains I threw a nice, big temper tantrum. Why would I want my parents burned to ashes when they were burned to death?

"We're having a proper funeral, and that's final," I told my lawyer, Stafford Smith.

"But it'd be so much cheaper and easier, Mona, just to cremate them," Smith told me, not gently.

"NO!" I screeched. "I almost DIED in the fire that killed my parents. I lost my family, my house, my life, and you can't even give me this? For God's sake, my parents left me their entire fortune, it's not like I can't pay for the funeral, as long as my legal caretaker at the moment consents to let me." I glared at Smith in the evil way that only 13 year olds can. "So what's it gonna be, legal caretaker?"

Smith sighed heavily. He was a young guy, maybe in his mid to late 20's. He was tall and gangly with well combed flaxen hair. I supposed he seemed like a nice enough guy as a person, but he was always too stiff and formal as a lawyer. "If you're sure about this…" Smith said uncertainly.

"I've never been surer of anything at all, Smith." And that was how the discussion ended. I got the proper funeral for my parents, using up only 200,000 of the millions my parents left me. The day of the funeral was bleak, as it often was in Gotham. But the funeral was a necessity for me, it allowed me to completely attempt to let go of my parents. The sight of their caskets being lowered into the ground solidified the fact I was finally alone in the world. And the feeling of being alone is one of the most emptying you can ever have.


	2. Flight of a Solution

AN: I meant to put this on the first chapter, but it completely slipped my mind. Anyways, this is my first time writing a Batman fic and I'm excited to finally being able to post stuff on FanFiction. If you're Batman-addicted like I know I am, please read and review, I'd really appreciate it!

Flight of a Solution

I smoothed down my new school uniform skirt as I walked into the tall, majestic doors of Gotham Academy. Mr. Smith, kid-lawyer extraordinaire, insisted that as soon as I ended my first semester of sophomore year at public school, I would go to Gotham Academy, the private school for Gotham's elite children. Smith wanted me to go all 4 years of High School but, being an uncooperative and rebellious teenager, I demanded on finishing up freshman year and having the first semester of sophomore year to say goodbye to all my public school friends. But after my parent's death I became cold and quiet, keeping to myself, grim with sorrow. It was difficult to make friends when you barely open up, yet I'd managed it a few times.

But in the end I agreed to go to the Academy. It'll be a new experience, new people to meet, new things to learn, I told myself. I didn't believe it, of course. I'm sure Gotham Academy will be just as shitty as public school. Of course, public school didn't have extremely stuck up kids like I was sure Gotham Academy did.

"It's not like it matters," I told myself quietly, shouldering my backpack and walking inside the tall doors to the main annex. "You're probably not even going to attempt to make friends anyway."

The annex was filled with bustling students, laughing and greeting each other before the school day started. Awkwardly, I made my way through the crowds, hoping to at least see a friendly face so I wouldn't be lost the entire day. I grabbed my schedule from my blazer pocket, looking over it again though I'd already memorized it.

"Hi!" A perky voice greeted. I looked up to see a tall Asian girl with long black curls cascading around her shoulders. She smiled widely, sticking her hand out. "I'm Chen-Hu, I'm sophomore class President. Your name is Mona, right?"

I shook her hand. "Yea, that's me. I was wondering if you could help me out with finding my classes, new school and all." Chen-Hu smiled widely, nodding a bit too enthusiastically.

"The Vice-President will show you around, I have to go help organize the snack committee at the Spring Dance. Bye!" Chen-Hu disappeared as soon as she'd come, melting into the before-school crowd, leaving me alone and confused.

"Sooo…" I asked myself. "Who exactly is the Vice-President?" I looked around the Commons again. Everybody looked like creepy boarding school clones, all acting snooty, wearing the same arrogant expressions and perfectly pressed uniforms. I wasn't one of these people, and they all knew it. I was an outsider here, the intruder. Self-consciously I moved my messenger bag to my other shoulder, waking to an unoccupied space of the wall.

Curious stares burned into me but I attempted to ignore them, waiting for someone to show me around. Where was the damn Vice-President, anyway? How long did it take to get to the Commons?

"Excuse me," someone said. I looked up from my twiddling thumbs to see a tall, thin boy with mussed jet-black hair. He had bright blue eyes with serious flecks of grey incorporated within. He wore a slightly arrogant expression. "I'm Dick Grayson, sophomore Vice-Prez. Chen-Hu told me you needed someone to show you around?"

"Yea, thanks. I'm Mona Ryder by the way."

"I know," he said condescendingly. "Do you have your schedule?"

Wordlessly I took the folded paper from my pocket, handing it to him. Dick looked at it scrutinizingly as if judging what sort of person I was based on the classes I took.

"Spanish 4?" He questioned, cocking an eyebrow and looking up at me, disbelief colouring his face.

"I was homeschooled as a kid. I started learning Spanish a year before the schools ever offered it. I've been on the Honors route since 7th grade," I explained quickly.

"Muy bien," Dick said with a bad Spanish accent. "This school needs more nerds, there's far too many ditzes." He continued looking at the schedule, occasionally making small comments under his breath.

"Modern History Honors?"

"I'm sick of learning about pasty white dudes in England and the American Revolution." I told him, rolling my eyes. "That and economics bores me."

Dick snorted but turned it into a quick laugh. "Well, we have that in common. I'm taking it 4th hour as well. C'mon, I'll take you through your classes." Dick turned, walking down a branching hallway that led into the depths of Gotham Academy.

As far as I was concerned, this had been the worst first day of school I'd ever had. My first three classes were Biology Honors, Creative Writing, and Algebra 2 Honors. The classes themselves were OK, I guess. Biology seemed a bit too simple, but I'd grown up around the ideas of macromolecules and looking at cells under the microscope. The Biology teacher was a tall strict man named Professor Caldwin. He had a large protruding nose that gave his voice a really strange nasally quality. The worst part was that he hated me.

"Class, we have a new student. This is Mona Ryder, daughter of the two scientists who got me kicked out of the Gotham Institute of Science." Caldwin glared at me as I took an empty seat in the back of the class by a window. The sky was grey and overcast exactly like my mood. For the rest of the class period Caldwin proceeded to pick on me, asking complicated questions about things the Public School System had never gone over. He only got madder as I answered them all correctly, thanking my early private lessons as a child for the knowledge.

My next class, Creative Writing, was taught by a lady named Gladys Turnmeyer. She had frizzy blonde hair that seemed to be affected by static electricity every waking moment. She was an airy, leisurely teacher who pretty much let us do our own thing as long as we were writing. Lacking a topic, I began to write about my first few hours at Gotham Academy, talking of the suffocating monotony and the preppy prerequisite. As soon as I began writing about Dick I realized that he seemed weirdly familiar, like someone who looked like a movie star or something. With an uneasy feeling of confusion I headed to Algebra, my guaranteed least favorite subject.

The Algebra teacher was an old woman; she must've been in her late 60s. She had wispy grey hair and an abundance of wrinkles, all going with her grandma-esque voice as she talked about the quadratic formula and inequalities. I attempted to pay attention, but I've always hated math, much to my parent's disappointment. They secretly wanted me to follow in their footsteps, though they were too kind to say so. Before I knew it, it was time to go to 4th hour with Dick Grayson.

By the time I got into the classroom it was already halfway full. The room itself was very relaxed. It smelled of sweet coffee and new textbooks, a tantalizing aroma to a caffeine addicted nerd. A slim teacher stood by the door and as I came in the woman smiled. We shook hands and I immediately felt like an equal.

"You must be Mona. I'm Ms. Dee; I'll be your Modern History teacher." Underneath the happy exterior it seemed that Ms. Dee was tired, perhaps even a bit depressed. It was obvious, seeing the bags under her eyes vainly covered with makeup.

"I'm super excited for this course," I said as enthusiastically as I could muster. Dee smiled, gesturing to the room for me to sit anywhere. Immediately I made a beeline to the one window seat. It was a two person, as all the seats were, but I hoped nobody would occupy the adjacent seat.

My wish, however, went unobserved. No sooner had I set my bag on the floor did Dick Grayson saunter up to my table. "That's my spot, you know," he said, nodding to the chair I was sitting in. I gave him an exasperated look, my face expressionless but my eyes told the whole story.

"It's my first day of school in the middle of the year. You've had a whole semester to get things situated. Gimme a break, Grayson," I sighed, rubbing my temples with stress showing through my tough exterior.

"Oh, calm down," Dick replied airily, smoothly sitting next to me with a playful grin on his face. "Is it so illegal to tease?"

"Yes," I grumbled. "I've had a rough day."

"Mod History is a breeze if you watch the news." Dick leaned back in his chair, looking like he was 100% comfortable in the classroom.

"Then I guess I'll just have to fail this class," I muttered, mostly to myself. At the teen's orphanage I lived at, whenever our caretakers weren't watching stupid soap operas or reality TV, the older kids had taken it over and were watching the porn channel the advisors didn't know about or using the one outdated game console.

"What, your parents won't watch the news even if it was for your grade?" Dick mocked. I couldn't help but wince at the comment.

"My parents have been dead for 2 years. They haven't watched much television in Gotham Cemetery, I'd imagine," I said quietly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Dick said sincerely. "I didn't know. So you're actually the Ryder's kid? I just thought the last name was a coincidence."

We were silent for a few moments before Dick spoke once more. "My parents died when I was a kid. I've been living with Bruce Wayne ever since." His voice was soft as he admitted this to me. For a moment I saw Dick Grayson's condescending look soften a bit, but in a moment it was in place once again.

"At least you have someone," I muttered, jealous though I tried not to be.

Dick didn't even attempt to answer as the bell rang, signaling the start of class. Dee walked to the front of the class, turning to see only ¾ of the seats in the class filled. Disappointment coloured the woman's face but she quickly recovered.

"Well, this is going to be an exciting semester, I can already tell," Dee said with a nervous undertone. Next to me, Dick snorted. "Today I thought we'd start off by having a little lesson on two well known Gotham locals: Batman and Robin."

Excited murmurs went through the class but Dick only looked bored. He gave a slow sigh and began to twirl his pencil between his fingers with lithe speed. The teacher went on though it seemed I was the only one listening.

"The Dynamic Duo hasn't been sighted in over a week since they apprehended the Riddler and his accomplices, but a video of the ambush was taken. We're going to watch it." The class wasn't even attempting to hide their side chatters as the teacher pulled the video up from Gotham Times online. As soon as she hit play the class quieted down.

It was a bad quality video, grainy images and incomprehensible audio, but it was good enough to see Batman and Robin take the Riddler by surprise in an alleyway not too far from my orphanage. The time in the bottom right corner read "1:17 am" so it was no wonder why I didn't remember hearing a disturbance. Batman went straight for the green-clad villain as Robin methodically took out each of the Riddler's goons. At one point Robin appeared to be cornered by the henchmen but he quickly gained the upper hand by using his abundance of resources. With a strong jump, he leapt atop the lone alley dumpster, then propelled himself to a rickety metal staircase. He held on with a decidedly precarious grip, completely flipped upside down, hanging like a bat. When one of the henchmen reached for a gun, Robin pushed off from the metal bars, tucking himself in for a tight flip in the air before landing in a crouched position on the ground. All of the girls in the class gasped at this then gushed to their partner about what a total stud Robin was. I rolled my eyes as Dick chuckled quietly to himself.

In minutes the Dynamic Duo has the criminals bound. The police showed up shortly after but it was as if the two had vanished into thin air. The video ended soon after the arrival of the police and Ms. Dee took her place at the front of the room once more.

"What do you think some motivations for Batman and Robin are? Why do they do what they do?" Dee asked the question to all of us, hoping to make us actually think. The room was silent before a pretty red head in the front spoke up.

"Just for kicks?" she giggled.

"Anyone else?" Dee sighed.

"Revenge," I said softly but loud enough for the class to hear. Some people turned to look at me as if amazed the new girl could speak.

"You'll have to be more specific, Ms. Ryder. Revenge against whom?" Dee asked politely. I shrugged.

"Maybe Batman has a dark past; maybe some villain wronged him so he takes his revenge on all of them."

"That's ridiculous," a curiously tan blonde boy near the front said. "Why would Batman keep fighting if he only had to get revenge on one guy?"

"Maybe it's a combination of the two," a mousy looking girl said. As soon as everyone began to look at her, she hunched down, making herself seem even smaller and averting her eyes. "I mean, he could've gotten revenge on his guy then decided he liked crime fighting so he stuck to it."

"Well, that kind of answers Batman, but what about Boy Blunder?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation alive.

"He can't be more than 16," someone commented.

"Why would a teenager go around in a cape and tights next to a guy in a bat costume?" I poked at the metaphorical fire the conversation was becoming, hoping to get a reaction.

"Maybe he doesn't have much of a choice," Dick said. It was as if he was only talking to me and not to the entire class. "I mean, he has to be pretty weird to dress up at all, what if she's crazy enough that he can't integrate with society?"

"So you think he's like the Joker?" somebody asked, sounding fearful.

"No, no.' Dick held his hands up in surrender as he shook his head, but a half-grin spread across his face as if he was enjoying the irony of something. "I'm saying that the Dynamic Duo can't help but to crime fight, like it's the only thing that appeals to the odd part of them that doesn't fit into society."

The room was silent for a moment. I could see some of the wheels in people's head turning as they thought about Dick's unique idea.

"That's just my opinion, though." Dick shrugged. Nobody answered him and the class fell into a comfortable silence. His words spurred something in my head, as well. Did Batman and Robin seek revenge; did they suit up to fit into their odd niches in society? I looked around me surreptitiously, seeing the choking sameness, the sickening way that everybody was completely identical. I didn't belong in a place like this. I was just like the Dark Knight in that way. He doesn't fit into society, so he doesn't attempt to. The only differences I could see between us was that he wasn't forced to fit into society, he was going on his own path to achieve his own aspirations. I was following my lawyer's path, living a life I would never have chosen for myself.

And then it hit me. I didn't have to live like a perfect little prep school teenager. It was completely idiotic to do considering that wasn't who I was. But I wasn't just Mona Ryder, orphan, either. There was another part of me that wanted to make HAVEN pay. A part of me wanted revenge on Jerome Fincher, and both parts of me knew that I couldn't get revenge as Mona Ryder. I needed a symbol, something that would allow me to get my point across without Mona getting in the way. I needed to be like Batman and Robin. And, surprisingly, I knew exactly how to do that.

The school bus dropped me off at the orphanage after school, driving away, leaving in a cloud of black smoke. I walked inside with renewed intention, running into the sad building with unknown speed. I booked it to my room, slamming the door closed and thanking God id didn't have a roommate. I locked the door and turned to the small room I called my own. It was cramped with a too small bed and single dressing drawer that I never used. Instead, I kept my clothes in the suitcase I'd moved in with, hoping that when it was time for me to leave it'd be easy to just zip up and go. But I've been here for two years and the day to leave never came.

It didn't matter at the moment, though. I yanked off the prep school blazer and the green and black striped tie. My shoes were kicked off and the olive green knee high socks came next. I made my way over to my single suitcase, yanking it open with anxious strength. I dug through the clothes until, buried at the bottom, I found what I was looking for.

I pulled the silky grey body suit from the suitcase, holding it up with cautious fingers. It still looked the same as it had the day my parents had put the last stitch in. A crush sense of nostalgia pushed down on me but I pushed it away, unbuttoning my starch white shirt and slipping out of the thick pleated skirt.

The suit fit like a glove, perfectly fitting to my modest teenage curves. It was light and comfortable yet I could tell it was durable and wouldn't soon fall apart. A smile spread upon my face without my knowing as I stood, admiring myself in my parent's last invention. I couldn't help but think my parents had made this owl suit exclusively for me. A surge of strength broke through my giddy feelings. It focused my intentions, my aspirations, and my ultimate goals. And my number goal at the moment? Make HAVEN pay…

In an instant I was back at my house the day my parents died. It was after Jilliane Conrad had saved me from the lab, dragging my half-conscious body to the front garden, setting me down on the grass not too gently. I sucked in the clean air desperately. My muscles screamed in agony as I pulled myself up to a sitting position, still clutching the owl suit in my soot stained fist. Before me the large lawn sprawled itself out over the rolling hills. A tall figure stood maybe twenty feet away from me but Jilliane didn't seem to notice as she called 911 on her cell phone. The figure was a thin man who looked maybe in his late 30s. He wore a cruel smile and turned to look at me, gasping in smokeless air. Curiously enough, the man wore a pressed suit, neat and crisp in every way. On the jacket pocket there was a small crest. It was the United States with the word HAVEN in large block letters across it. That's when it hit me that this was the head of HAVEN, the man who'd been protesting my parent's work, the man who ultimately led to their deaths. This man was Jerome Fincher.

I was brought back to reality by a rude knock on the door. My hands were trembling when I finally gained focus enough to see them. I could feel how the color had drained from my face and I imagined that I must've looked something like a ghost. My steps were shaky as I made my way to the door, not opening it because of my current state.

"Yeah?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady. It amazed me how powerful one memory could be.

"Dinner's ready. Get your ass in the dining room now or you won't get anything," someone replied, possibly an annoying 14 year old by the name of Ben Roberts. It was hard to tell.

"It's already dinner?" I mumbled, looking at the cheap digital clock in my room. It read 6:47 pm. "I'm not hungry, I'm skipping dinner tonight," I replied clearly, hoping the person would drop it and leave. I was relieved as I heard their retreating footsteps. Quickly, I laced my tennis shoes on, trying not to get teary eyed as I realized I was wearing two of my parent's own inventions.

"Grow a pair," I mumbled to myself, unlocking my bedroom door and stepping out into the hall. My room was on the first floor, thankfully, so I found it extremely convenient there was a window in the hall leading to the back of the orphanage. Behind the building there was a small, dingy backyard with dead grass and rusty chain link fences. They were easy enough to leap over and I didn't have to worry about anyone seeing me since the sun had already set over Gotham City.

"Oooh, I love the darkness, that's when the bats come out," I said quietly to myself. From the backyard of the orphanage, I stuck to the shadows of the alleys and dark storefronts. Sometimes it worried me to live in the bad, well, really bad, part of Gotham. Crime was like a pre-requisite here, this part of town was renowned for murders, muggings and drug dealings alike. But that never crossed my mind as I slunk through the shadows of the Gotham the public tried to ignore.

At first I didn't quite know where I was going, but after a few minutes to think it over, I knew that I was going in the right direction. A few blocks from the orphanage was an abandoned cereal making factory. Nobody had used it for anything major for years, besides the odd drug deal or hostage situation. But it was Monday night, all the gangsters and druggies were at home, probably plotting their next move up the Gotham Crime ladder.

In minutes I was at the factory. The previously sealed up entrance had been torn open so I slipped in, taking advantage of my slim body build. It was pitch black in the factory besides some dingy light streaming through dirty windows high above me. A thick layer of dust settled on the floor, but besides that the entire place was empty.

"Perfect!" I announced to the building. My voice echoed a bit but soon it was silent once more. A rickety metal staircase was built into the wall, going to a single catwalk above me. "That should do just fine."

And before I knew it, I was standing on the catwalk, looking down at the dusty floor. I could see where I'd disturbed the dust as I walked. Obviously no one had used this building in a while. But that didn't matter now. What mattered now was if I could find the courage to test the suit out for the first time. Another look off the catwalk told me that a fall from here would most certainly kill me, or at least give me a broken arm or leg.

"It's now or never, Ryder," I said loudly to myself. I liked the way my voice reverberated in the large room. It made me feel like I wasn't the only person here, like I wasn't alone. That and I'd always had a slight irrational fear of silence (for those nerds out there, its called sedatephobia).

I gave a final look down before I got up on the railings of the catwalk. Forcing myself to look up I took a deep breath, hoping that this wouldn't go horribly wrong. When I thought that I couldn't wait any longer, I jumped. The first thing I noticed was how quickly I plummeted down. The second thing I noticed was that somebody was screaming, in the ear-shattering, bloody-murder kind of way. It took me a moment to realize that the person screaming was actually me. Once I was aware of the sound I could actually feel it being torn from my throat. It was a wild, guttural yet shrieking sound. I had to clamp my teeth down on my tongue in order to shut myself up.

My next action was far more crucial than silencing a scream. I thrust my arms out, making the built in wings of the suit spring out. The wind caught me instantly, jerking me so I was gliding. My shoulders felt like they'd been ripped from their sockets then shoved back in, but it was worth it nonetheless. My breath seemed to be stolen from me as my wings caused me to rise higher in the building. The wind I was creating stirred the dust on the floor, making it dance wildly in strange patterns.

An elated yell ripped itself from my lungs and it echoed across the room, making it sound like there were at least 4 other Monas with me. Angling the right wing slightly I swooped down to my left going at a speed I didn't know the suit was capable of. I straightened the wing and methodically brought my arms in, closing the wings and taking a running landing.

A wide grin lit up my face as I cheered once more. My hands were shaking with the adrenalin rush I'd received. I just jumped off a bridge-like structure at the top of a building that must've been at least 4 or 5 stories high. I didn't die, I didn't hurt myself. Hell, I didn't even trip!

"Ok, so you've mastered flying inside. Now let's go out to Bat's territory." I grinned wider as I stepped out of the warehouse. The night wind took me by surprise; I hadn't expected it to get chilly so fast. The harsh wind was cold and unrelenting, but I saw it as an opportunity. What if I could act like a kite and catch the wind and ride it as if I'd jumped? It was worth a try.

And so there I was, running like a freak down the pier in Gotham's slums. My arms were ramrod straight, completely perpendicular to my torso, like a strange bird running down the streets at night. Couldn't wait to see what people were going to say about my strange actions, if anybody could see me in the dark shadows of Gotham. I tried not to think of that as I sprinted as fast as I could, then took a powerful leap, launching myself into the air.

For a moment the wind actually caught my wings. It tugged me of the ground shakily. A few seconds later I was at least 4 or 5 feet up, my feet kicked instinctively as I fought for balance. I quickly lost the battle as my left arm crooked just enough at the elbow for me to spin in the wind and ultimately lose altitude. I didn't go straight down, of course. The wind took advantage of my right arm's still taught wing. It thrust me with bone breaking force this way and that. Before I knew it, I'd been slammed into a wall 50 feet away from where I'd started.

Pain bloomed from the middle of my forehead, coming in dizzying waves that hurt more than the last. It was agonizing to say in the least. I felt as though the blood in my head was trying to force its way out every time my heart beat. I lay crumpled for a few minutes, trying to regain enough strength to even sit up. I could feel a thin sheen of sweat breaking across my forehead but I only trembled while trying to control my limbs. I felt like a shaking leaf in a teasing autumn wind, strong enough of a breeze to move it but not gusty enough to blow it off.

"I must've hit my head pretty hard," I mumbled to myself. With a careful hand I reached up, probing my forehead. Above my right eyebrow I hit a tender spot causing me to yelp in pain. I drew my hand away but saw no blood. "I guess a bruise is better than a gash."

It felt like I sat there for an hour trying to get my bearings, thought it was probably no longer than 5 minutes. When I felt steady enough I used the wall to help me into a standing position. I couldn't help but grimace at my stupidity. Did I honestly think taking off from the ground on my first try would work?

"It's all in the past," I muttered, my speech a bit slurred. For a scary moment I wondered if I'd gotten a concussion.

My time to worry about it was limited though as a tall man staggered down the street, coming closer and closer with every stumbling step. Even from here I could smell the alcohol and weed on him. At first he didn't seem to notice me but he soon perked up, widening his blood shot eyes and closing the space between us.

"So little girls are bringing back the jumpsuits, eh?" He asked groggily as though half-asleep. The stench of him made me want to gag.

"Leave me alone," I said in a quiet, threatening voice. The drunk ignored me, moving until he had pressed his body against my own, suffocating me. His hands moved around my waist, inching lower.

For a moment I panicked, but instinct soon took over. As though it had a mind of its own, my knee came up, striking the man in the groin. He doubled over and I quickly punched him in the stomach. I was slightly amazed at how soft and fleshy his stomach felt against my fist. The man struggled to breathe, staggering away from me. My body worked like it was programmed to fight, swinging my leg up to kick the man in the neck and chin. He cried out in pain, sinking to the ground cradling his jaw. I could see a small gash leaking a small amount of blood.

"Woah," I whispered. My head throbbed with a rhythmic headache but I was too amazed at my actions to acknowledge the pain. I mean, as a child I took gymnastics and self-defense growing up, but I haven't done that since I was at least 9 or 10. "Go muscle memory." I smirked, happy to know I wasn't one of those damsels in distress. I didn't need anyone to help me, that was the whole reason I'd gotten the suit out. I wanted to help myself, not have others come and save me.

"You little bitch!" the man spat, blood mixed with spittle. He fumbled in his jacket for something and my blood ran cold as he pulled out a gun. The drunk cocked it as the wind began to pick up once more.

I backed up slowly, going from dirty sidewalk to the empty street. The wind pushed me back and forth and suddenly I got an idea. Maybe if I was careful this time I could actually use the wind to my advantage. If this worked, I'd get away alive. If it didn't? Well, we'll get to that if we need to.

I turned, sprinting in the other direction. Adrenalin pushed me harder as I heard the gun cock behind me. _He's going to shoot!_ I thought frantically. Before I knew what I was doing, I leapt up, the wind catching me much more gracefully. I was careful to keep my arms straight and for a crazy moment, the wind pulled me almost completely vertical like I was an angel ascending. But I was soon pushed to a horizontal position, my body parallel to the ground. Taking a chance, I looked down, seeing the armed man grow farther and farther away. Relief flooded me like an open dam but I didn't dwell long on it, keeping all my focus on the flight.

It was colder up in the air, but I didn't mind, the brisk wind slapping into my face kept me awake and alert. To be completely truthful, I'd never felt more alive. It wasn't just the weather that surprised me in the air; it was the view as well. I could never imagine what Gotham at night looked like until I got up here. Bright lights were sprinkled about the shadowed city. It was easy to tell where the publicized crimes took place, like the prostitution, drug deals with political officials, and armed robberies. All you had to do to find them was follow the lights. As much as the police department didn't want to admit it, Gotham was corrupt, a trashed city taken over by drug lords and villains. The only person who was doing anything about it was Batman, but one guy can't fix the whole place by himself.

I didn't know how long I'd practiced flying, catching wind currents, and landing, but when I'd landed for the last time and checked a digital clock in a shadowed store front I saw it was already 3:12 in the morning.

"8 hours!" I exclaimed in a whisper. "Well, at least I know how to use the suit." A voice in my head told me I shouldn't have stayed out too long, but a large smile on my face silenced the reasoning. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had so much fun or freedom in my entire life.

As I crept back over the fence to the orphanage, I looked up at the night sky. Some of the stars were clouded over by dark smog but I found a clear patch of the heavens shining down on me.

"Thanks, mom and dad." I whispered to the sky. "You always knew how to show me a good time."


	3. The Problem with Liars

AN: I've got a goal to finish the first section of this story by the end of 2011, so hopefully I'll make my goal and have it posted. I hope the plot line is interesting enough for you to come back for more. Oh, and it was brought to my attention that I didn't state which multi-verse this fic was situated in. I like to think of it as a cross between the Young Justice Earth (16) and the Batman Begins Earth (31). Thanks, read and review!

The Problem with Liars

When I was dutifully shipped off to Gotham Academy the next morning I was only a little more alive than a zombie. I was groggy, disoriented, and in pain from the hit to my forehead. The day started out pretty bad but it only got worse as it progressed. The bruise was hidden by my bangs but it still ached something awful. I couldn't focus in my morning classes. I was sleep-deprived and wounded, my body wanted time to heal but I didn't have time to be healthy. I had to be a student first.

It was unfortunate that my very first teacher of the day hated me, especially when I couldn't be up to par on my learning. Professor Caldwin was brutal today, asking me questions I had no hope of knowing then making fun of me in front of the entire class when I didn't get the answer correct. Creative Writing gave me a little bit of a break but I had to pretend I was writing the entire hour when really I was nodding off every five minutes. Algebra was a nightmare. I didn't have my homework done and I couldn't understand what the teacher was going on about AT ALL.

And then came Modern History. Ms. Dee stood at the door, greeting people with a handshake as they walked in. she gave me a tired smile, looking almost as exhausted as I felt. Looking at Dee it was easy to see that even being a teacher at a private school wasn't a glamorous job.

I took my seat, slumping over onto the desk with my head in my arms. A long sigh escaped me and it was as if my muscles were unwinding before I heard the chair next to me being pulled out from under the table. Dick sat, unzipping his bag as I sat up. I ran a hand through my hair without thinking, brushing my bangs from my forehead before they flopped back down.

"Woah, what happened there?" Dick asked, gesturing to my forehead. For a fleeting second panic gripped me, waking up my senses.

"I ran into a wall," I said smoothly, technically telling the truth.

"What the hell were you doing?" Dick probed, leaning against the table, his arm propping up his head.

"I don't see why it's your business," I said sourly.

"I was just curious, no need to get disgruntled." Dick shrugged. "Besides, why isn't anyone just gruntled?"

I gave Dick a strange look as he lazily grinned at me. "Gruntled?" I asked.

"What? It's a word, sort of."

"Sorry to break it to you, but gruntled so isn't a word."

"What about whelmed?"

"Ok, that's actually a word."

"Aster?"

"Aster?" I asked, completely bewildered.

"You know, like disaster. Aster would be when everything goes well."

I couldn't help but bark a laugh though I was exhausted. "I'm not quite sure it works like that."

"Sure it does. The English language is flexible." Dick argued.

"Not when you're butchering it," I giggled, stopping immediately as I realized how stereotypical preppy I was being. My exhaustion caught up with me as another sigh escaped my lips.

"You seem really tired," Dick observed, slowly going back to his haughty default.

"That's because I am," I replied humorlessly.

"Late night?"

"Early morning."

"Homework?"

"Recreational activities." I hid a smile from Dick as the tardy bell rang out, alerting the hallway stragglers to flee to their classes.

"Good morning class. Now I know it's only the second day of the semester, but I want to start a group project to get you all more acquainted with each other as well as the news of Gotham and the world," Dee stated, wasting no time of her captive audience. "I'm going to assign you a partner and you two will randomly pick a local piece of news from our fair Gotham City."

I snorted a little bit at that last part. What was fair about drug trading, human trafficking, thievery, and murder? Gotham was not a fair city, and even that is an understatement. I noticed Dick laughed a little under his breath as well, but possibly for different reasons than me.

"I'll assign you partners tomorrow, but today we'll just look at a few news possibilities." Dee looked satisfied with her rant, turning to go to her desk then typing away violently at her keyboard. For the rest of the class we looked at news articles about "fair" Gotham. Some were of Batman and Robin, but most described the boring political side of the city. Even the government of Gotham was screwed up. Judges and policemen were known to be easily bought off by drug dealers who just wanted an easy shipping to go over.

"Here's a new one as of today." Dee clicked on a short article that appeared on the projected screen. The title blared "WANTED MURDERER BROUGHT TO JUSTICE BY WINGED VIGILANTE." As the class read in silence I began to realize that the story was about me. It told of a wanted murderer and sex offender who was caught last night. Many people reported a strange winged birdlike creature so the police went to go check it out. At an alley down Benedicts Road they found their wanted murderer shouting angrily at a dark blotch in the sky. He claimed it was a girl in a strange suit that kicked the shit out of him and flew off into the night (don't you just love my paraphrasing skills?).

_I'm a hero,_ I thought to myself. _I caught a murderer last night._ Pride bloomed inside of me; replacing any ounce of tired I might've still had in me.

"So are they with Bats?" someone asked. To a non-Gothamite the question would've seemed completely (for a lack of a better term) batty. But anyone living in the city knew the Dark Knight and his contributions to Gotham (no matter how much the police department argued they could handle the crime themselves).

"Batman hasn't given verification or declined association to the stranger last night. For now we'll have to assume they're completely solo," Dee answered, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal but secretly pleased someone was taking an interest in her class.

"The guy in the article said the person was just a girl, no mask. If she was with the Batman she'd probably work harder at trying to hide her identity, right?" Dick asked lazily. The rhetorical question posed a very good point though it seemed that Dick thought of it as common knowledge.

"Very good observation, Richard," Dee commented, practically beaming at him. I rolled my eyes. It amazed me how Dick seemed to be such a suck up in this class without ever trying. He was probably the same in all his other classes; he had the suck up type of attitude with an undertone of mischievous tendencies. It was like he was the valedictorian mixed up with the guy who plays the best senior pranks.

"Yes, Richard," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What a divine observation!"

"You can't poke fun when you won't release information. It's not fair at all," Dick protested. "Until you tell me what is up with that bruise you're not allowed to make fun of my name. If you're a person of your word, you'll agree to this."

I bit down a hysterical laugh. "Okay, I can agree to that. I guess I won't ever make fun of your name ever again."

Dick looked exasperated but also humored as if he found my sass amusing. "That's fair, but not fun. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I left it in the Narrows," I replied mostly to myself.

Dick seemed surprised. "What were you doing down there?"

"I live practically down the street from it. I'm almost always in the Narrows, Grayson," I yawned. Subconsciously I rubbed my bruise hoping I could make it go away. It only stung more.

"Try putting ice on it when you get home, it'll make the swelling go down," Dick advised quietly as Dee began to teach the class again. I thanked him silently with my eyes.

"Tonight the human rights group HAVEN is celebrating their 1 Billionth dollars reached for the prevention of starvation and homelessness in the United States. I'm sure there will be a story on that by tomorrow so we can all see what went on there." Dee continued on with the news but I couldn't pay attention.

A plan began to form in my mind. HAVEN was responsible for ruining my life, more specifically Jerome Fincher was. If I was serious about getting revenge then tonight would be the perfect opportunity to show him I'm actually an opponent. My symbol was going to make an appearance for the first time tonight. And for the first time, somebody was finally going to challenge Fincher.

The elite society of Gotham City chattered idly in the polite din of HAVEN's celebratory banquet. Glasses clinked as the rich congratulated Jerome Fincher on his success at being the director of the most successful and well known human activist group in the world, rising to the public's eye in just less than 3 years. The tall man accepted all the praise he was given, a small smirk secretly playing across his lips. Fincher couldn't think of any way this night could go anymore flawlessly, and that was exactly what he wanted. Taking another sip of his champagne, Fincher took in the crowd of people that were there for HAVEN's success, for his success.

From the tall rafters of the dark ballroom ceiling, I looked down at the festivities, scowling at these silly socialites. They didn't know what kind of a company they were supporting by coming to this dinner party. They didn't know what Fincher was all about, what lengths HAVEN would go through to get what they wanted. A knot tightened in my throat as a sick thought flashed through my head; HAVEN won't hesitate to murder, as long as HAVEN gets its way.

I shoved the thought away, pulling a grey ski mask that I'd picked up at a gas station on the way to the HAVEN banquet, over my face, preparing for my dramatic debut, my grand entrance. My feet balanced in my parent's tennis shoes on the thick rafter beam, I leaned forward letting my momentum take me all the over the edge until I was falling to the Earth. My arms snapped out perpendicular to my body and the built in wings of the owl suit followed their lead. Wind caught the wings like sails as a loud snapping sound echoed through the ballroom. Gasps went out as I swooped down over the guest's heads. I saw the astonished looks of people as they ducked even though I was at least 5 feet above them.

My flight came to an end as I lithely perched myself atop the banister of the ballroom's grand staircase. Inside a satisfaction bloomed as the landing was made successful. All of the hours I'd spent into the late night and early morning had actually paid off; the owl suit was beginning to feel like an extension of my body instead of clumsily attached wings.

I squatted down making sure my feet were perfectly balanced, otherwise I'd fall off and look like a total idiot. Shocked exclamations echoed throughout the crowd as everyone processed what was going on. I looked around, noting familiar faces from Gotham tabloids, such as the notoriously brilliant Bruce Wayne, an old family friend of my parents. I used to love it when Bruce had dinner over at our house; he was one of the few intelligent people my parents knew who didn't treat me like I was an insignificant toddler. Bruce Wayne had also acted like we personally were good friends. We had small inside jokes like the time I had accidentally spilled my dad's wine all over the carpet during a party when I was 7. Instead of ratting me out, Bruce quickly helped me pull a rug over the stain, refilling my dad's glass without a word. When I looked up at him incredulously he only winked saying "Sometimes you gotta pull the rug over their eyes."

I shook the distracting thought away, focusing on the task at hand: Threaten Fincher, hope he comes clean, parent's deaths = avenged-ish. With a small nod I prepared myself, allowing a deep breath and a tight blink of the eyes. The richest people of Gotham were awaiting my words.

"I'm sure you all think you're supporting an excellent cause, congratulating the world renowned Jerome Fincher and his achievements with HAVEN. All I've got to say is you people are idiots for being manipulated. Fincher is an evil man. Don't believe me? He's responsible for ruining my life two years back." My glare met Fincher's strange look. "Do you recall what you did, Jerome? I'm sure anyone with a sense of morals would own up to their actions. On second thought, I wouldn't be all that surprised if you played this off like it was nothing." My voice came out in a deep threatening growl on the last sentence.

"Making false accusations isn't very polite, especially when crashing someone else's party," Fincher said smoothly. His dead grey eyes flashed with a kind of annoyed amusement, like a predator would look at belligerent prey.

"Own up to what you did and all you'll have to deal with is punishment by law. Refusal of my demands? I'll make your life a living Hell, Fincher," I replied, my voice dark with foreboding. Whispers began to break the silence of the room.

"I have nothing to admit. Now I'm sure we can find a security guard to escort you out, Miss…" Fincher tried to trick me into telling my name as if he didn't already have an idea what it could be.

"Nice try, but I gotta fly. It is a school night." I gave a wicked grin behind the ski-mask, half-playful and half-outraged. I stood atop the banister, jumping out over the ground with my arms spread wide. The synthetic wings caught the air current from the warm air pumping into the building to keep the guests comfortable from the January weather. I was thankful for the warm air. Everybody knows heat rises so it only aided me in my return to the ceiling.

Once I was out of eyesight people clamored and discussed the occurrence. Some craned their heads up to look for me but I'd already found my place amongst the shadows of the rafters. In less than a minute I had navigated my way to the service tunnel, ultimately ending up on the roof. My tennis shoes slapped the tarmac and with a strong jump I was flying off the edge of the roof, my veins alive with adrenalin.

I couldn't help but let an excited whoop of joy burst from my throat. This suit made me alive! It heightened my senses, made my blood tingle, my heart race, my brain was so stimulated. Why didn't I ever get this owl suit out before? I could almost believe that just this flight of downtown Gotham could fill the void my parents had left me with.

"Let's have a little fun with this!" I shrieked, angling my wings to turn sharply. The suit followed my lead just as it was supposed to, but I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings. A building quickly came up on my left and it wasn't as if I could tuck my arm in to dodge it or else I would've lost too much altitude. So I hit the building, slamming into it with my left hand. A scream of pain came from my throat in a strangled sound that pierced the night but I kept flying, heading towards my first destination to paying Fincher back for the death of my parents: HAVEN Headquarters.

The HAVEN building was only around 30 stories tall, so it was relatively easy to land on even though my sharp turn had screwed up my flight pattern. The moment I'd gotten low enough to land, I tucked my arms in close, dropping like a stone. I rolled once, underestimating the height I was above the roof. The excess momentum landed me on my back with all of the air knocked out of me. For a few minutes all I could do was gasp in air.

But I got up, shaking and trembling but standing on my own two feet. Using the light from the lights on the roof, I checked out my left arm. The suit was unharmed but my wrist was bloody and bruised. Oh, well. All in a night's job for a justice seeker, I suppose. Without wasting another second I hurried to the rooftop entrance, getting the door unlocked with a hacking system my parents had taught me when I was 9. In minutes, I was fleeing down several flights of stairs, eager to use my time to its full potential.

The Modern History classroom was buzzing with chatter as I entered it the next day. Newspaper articles showed pictures of the girl in the owl suit perched dramatically atop the ballroom's staircase banister. The picture next to it betrayed the state of HAVEN's central office with toppled computer monitors and ripped and shredding papers strewn across the floor. The headline screamed "MASKED OWL GIRL TRASHES HAVEN HEADQUARTERS?" The story followed, telling how the owl girl warned Fincher that if he didn't agree to her demands, his life would be a "living Hell" (I'm just so flattered they actually quoted me). The next day everyone showed up at HAVEN HQ for work to find the place completely trashed, the security systems down. After viewing the feather strewn across the mess of the office, everyone jumped to one conclusion: the Owl Girl. It also went on, connecting Monday night's "owl sighting" to the much more public Tuesday night sighting.

I allowed myself a small grin seeing that I accomplished my subconscious goal of making my demands public. Thanks to the media, everyone in Gotham knew what I wanted and what I'd do to get it. My memory flashed back to the feathers found at the scene of the "crime" (or justice). Everyone assumed they were owl feathers because of my costume, but a trained eye could easily tell they were pigeon feathers found on the roof. My humor was short lived though as I couldn't help but scowl as I remembered Fincher playing dumb and pretending not to know what happened 2 years earlier. He knew better than me what happened when he set my house on fire, destroying my parent's lab and their lives. Only a person with a soul as black as the night could live with themselves after doing something so awful. But once again, it shouldn't surprise me Fincher could sleep at night.

"Ohmahgawd, could this Owlet chick be any more of a Batgirl wannabe, I mean, hello!" A preppy voice rang out; using the name the press had begun to call my masked self. The voice in question belonged to one of those snooty rich girls who only went to Gotham Academy because it was more expensive than public school.

I turned my back to the entire conversation, amazed at how dense people could be. It was easy to ignore most of the discussions about Owlet because they were all so far away from the truth. Somebody in my Creative Writing class thought Owlet was like Superman in Metropolis and she was going to shoot Fincher with her eye lasers or something. Someone else on my bus this morning guessed that Owlet was Fincher's long lost daughter, left to die alone, forgotten in the streets, similar to the Penguin's story, though it seemed to be lacking the well thought out-ness considering Owlet mentioned what Fincher did TWO YEARS ago, not when she was born. But maybe I'm just picky because I know the facts.

"Class, settle down now." Dee walked into the room looking frazzled and half asleep. A thermos of hot coffee and a newspaper were clutched in her hands as if they were the most important things in life. I suppose after a big night of news, to a Mod History teacher they were. "Please be quiet. I'm well aware you're all discussing the whole 'Owlet' business, but please stop talking. We'll read the entire story together as a class after the tardy bell rings."

Surprisingly, the teacher's request got the class to fall silent as they waited for the single fateful tone of the minute bell. Dick slid into class with only moments to spare, but still technically was not absent or tardy. He spared me smile as his blue eyes twinkled behind his jaggedly cut midnight black hair.

"Good morning," I commented tiredly, trying to focus more on the conversation than my sore muscles from the night before. "Hear about the news?"

"Who didn't? It's everywhere. Can't flip on a TV without seeing a story about Owlet. It's kind of annoying, really," Dick replied nonchalantly.

"No more annoying than Batman and Robin." I shrugged trying to be casual about the conversation. Once everyone was in their respective seats, Dee began teaching the class.

Social Studies was always an easy subject for me, awkwardly so in my predominantly math/science household. My parents always knew I wasn't like them and though it disheartened them they didn't force their careers on me. I was grateful that, able to be good at what naturally came to me. At my old school I was always best in my class. At Gotham Academy, however, I was most obviously beat out in Mod History for top spot by the one and only Dick Grayson. And after Dee had read out the assigned partners for the project, guess who my assigned partner just happened to be? That's right, the one and only, Dick Grayson.

Though we sat next to each other and had talked a bit for the past few days, I didn't know that much about Dick. But ever since I'd arrived at Gotham Academy I'd heard whispers of him being Bruce Wayne's ward after his parents had died, which I already knew. It was obvious that I could connect with him in the fact that we were both orphans, which we lightly touched on Monday, but he had Bruce Wayne, and I was alone.

With a grudgingly quiet sigh I turned my chair to face Dick. He suddenly looked impatient, foot tapping sporadically, chewing on his pen, running a hand through his hair to make it more mussed than his usually carefully messed up style which I tried and failed to ignore. Something was obviously bothering this guy.

"What's up?" I asked, genuinely interested, forcing myself to appear more awake than I actually was. "You're all jittery."

"Nothing," Dick said impatiently, waving me off.

"It's obviously something. I wouldn't lie to me, Dick. I'm excellent at reading people." _When I pay attention to them_, I thought to myself.

Dick sighed. "It's just that Owlet person. It's weird how she just popped out of nowhere, don't you think?"

I shrugged, trying to remain as opinionless as possible. "I don't see why everyone's making such a big deal about her. She's just another masked 'crusade'."

"Batman and Robin fight criminals, not human activist groups," Dick pointed out.

"I'm just saying that people shouldn't be so hard on her. I mean, she probably can't be more than 16. Imagine what drove her to go to lengths like that whole stunt at the banquet," I argued. A small voice in my head told me I was getting too involved, too caring, too suspicious. "She's probably going to disappear in a few weeks anyway. I mean, Robin's about the same age as Owlet but he's got Batman as a mentor and someone to roam around Gotham with. Seems to me like Owlet has nobody."

Dick nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing. "Ms. Ryder?" Dee called, suddenly standing next to me with a large top hat filled with white slips of paper. "Pick and issue for you and Mr. Grayson to research." She thrust the hat forward.

I bit my lip, sticking my hand into the hat, snatching a random slip of paper. With lithe fingers I opened it seeing 3 words I never would've thought I'd have to research: Batman and Robin. A silent thanks went out to my lucky stars the paper didn't say "Owlet." I gave a side glance at Dick who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Once everyone had gotten their Mod History topics Dee announced due to technical issues, the Gotham Academy library was closed and the Gotham Public Library was still being repaired after an arsonist took a torch to it. To research we'd have to go to one of our partner's houses. Dee made it very clear that the research was to be done together.

With a grim look I turned to Dick. "Well, my house was burned down a couple years back and the orphanage I live at doesn't have internet access. So, your house?"

"I suppose so," Dick said, looking less than enthusiastic, a strange change of mood settling over him. He didn't seem very happy to be working on a project with me which deflated the little sense of self-pride I'd managed to accumulate since my parent's murders. The expression also made me ponder how Dick would dissect the word "enthusiastic". Would he wonder what a thusiastic person would look like?

"Nice to be working with you, too," I said under my breath, dripping with sarcasm as the lunch bell rang, letting us out of class. I stood, quickly packing my school things, tucking the Batman and Robin paper into my pocket, walking from the classroom to the crowded hallway of Gotham Academy.

"Mona, wait." Dick caught up to me in seconds, grabbing my left wrist. Before I could fight it, I gasped out in pain while flinching. His grip disappeared in an instant as he circled to face me. "Are you ok?"

"Yea, I'm fine. I just ran into a door frame," I lied easily. Dick's gaze flickered to my badly bruised and cut wrist where I'd ran into a building as I was flying away from the HAVEN banquet.

I remembered how close to slamming into the building I was. I had come away lucky with a slightly bloody wrist instead of a broken one. Subconsciously I pulled the sleeve of my uniform shirt down over the bruise and cut.

"Some helluva door frame," Dick said. It was obvious he didn't believe me.

"It really was." My voice was flat. I pushed past him trying to get to lunch.

Dick pulled me by the shoulders to an empty classroom doorway, away from the hallway traffic. "Mona, you know that if the people at the orphanage are trying to hurt you, you have to tell someone. Just because they're not your legitimate guardian doesn't mean they're allowed to do this to you." Dick leaned in closer to whisper his words so I could hear them but no one else could. Cognizance bloomed inside of me as I saw Dick's close proximity. His breath tickled across my face, smelling like peppermint gum.

"I appreciate the chivalry, Richard, but I'm just a klutz. I'm the only person responsible for my injuries. You might have some sort of hero complex going on where you flock to save poor damsels in distress, but I'm telling you right now, I don't need or want your help with my personal life."

Dick's eyes flashed with an unknown danger when I uttered the last sentence but he only clenched his jaw, taking a step away from me. "Fine. If it's ok with you, we'll meet at the fountain in front of the North entrance after school to go to my house for the research."

I nodded briskly, mirroring Dick's stiff demeanor. "Fine. I'll see you then." And just like that we departed, going our separate ways.


	4. The Outsider Looking In

AN: Happy Friday! I've been working on typing this up for the past 3 hours but I kept getting distracted. But here is finally is. Chapter 4, not the most exciting, but hopefully you guys will still like it. Read and Review, please!

The Outsider Looking In

At the end of the day I trudged to the fountain with resign, not at all looking forward to studying with Dick. He was already at the fountain, laughing with a few taller girls I didn't know. It was obvious he was flirting with them and they were eating it up, batting their eyelashes and flipping their hair so much I half expected it to all just fall out of their pretty little heads. I stayed at least 10 feet away, not wanting to be around the exhibition of stereotypical prep school girls fawning over a nosy guy.

A small black Mercedes pulled up in the circle drive and the driver rolled down the passenger window. It was an elderly man with a kind face and frazzled white hair. I could've identified that man anywhere as Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne's butler. Dick caught sight of the driver, obviously recognizing him. The boy looked around, spotting a brooding Mona, and then gesturing to the car as if saying this was our ride. He left the fawning girls without a goodbye and that caused a small smirk to play at my lips. I shouldered my Gotham Academy backpack and slipped into the sleek car behind Dick.

Dick had already sprawled himself out on one of the seats in the inside of the car. Awkwardly I sat on the seat across from him, putting my bag on the floor. The old man began to drive away and the car settled into a semi-uncomfortable silence.

"Who is your friend, Master Dick?" The man asked. A slight pang of hurt struck my heart but I didn't show it. I had thought that Alfred would remember me from when my parents and I used to come over.

"I'm Mona. We're partners for a Modern History project," I said flatly. Dick didn't reply, showing that the icy wall between us was still standing tall.

"How fascinating," the butler replied, sounding as if he was actually interested. "What is this project?"

"We have to give a presentation on Batman and Robin," Dick said in a monotone, the car slipping into a silence after he uttered the words.

The drive to Dick's house was long and awkward, nobody but Alfred talked. He filled the silence, saying that his name was Alfred (which I already knew but didn't react to) and that he had found a new cookie recipe he'd tried out today, wanting to know "Master Dick's" opinion on their taste. It surprised me how grandfatherly Alfred was to my sulking peer, how familial their relationship was, even to an outsider looking in, thought I wasn't the typical outsider.

It must've been a 15 minute ride out of Gotham to the Wayne Mansion. It was a beautiful sight to see, sprawling ground, tall house standing proud, ultimately reminding me of my first home which was only a few miles from Bruce Wayne's house, even farther into the countryside. A pang of homesickness hit me like a brick to the face, or well, the wall of that building a few nights ago. I sucked in a quick breath hoping I'd be able to keep my cool as we finished the long ride to Wayne Manor.

Alfred smoothly pulled the car up to the middle of the circle drive directly in front of the large double door that served as the Manor's entrance. I got out without waiting for the car to even shut off, standing by the fancy car, expecting to be quickly shown inside. Dick swiftly exited the car, acting as if I wasn't even standing there. He went up the short stairs to the front door, letting himself in with the swift flick of his wrist, a small house key suddenly in his hand. I followed quickly behind him, slipping inside the door before it slammed closed. How could he still be so pissed about our little spat after 4th hour?

Dick strutted down the large, empty halls of the house. I assumed he was going to his room so I stalked after him, hoping to get the bad blood between us settled so we could just do this project without a lot of fuss.

Each step further into the grand Wayne Manor was another emptying pang of homesickness. Admittedly, Wayne Manor was older and a bit fancier than my house. It was similar enough that every time I saw something even remotely tied to my old life, I had to fight to keep the tears down.

"Get a hold of yourself, Ryder," I grumbled, roughly shouldering my backpack and stomping after Dick, hoping that he heard my frustrated steps.

If he knew I was behind him he pretended that I wasn't, suddenly stopping in front of a dark oak door and slipping inside. I followed quickly but cautiously, pulling the door open with a tentative hand. The room behind it was light and open with tall ceilings and wide windows. It seemed to be practically bare, though, as if no one was living there. This room had less personality than a hotel room, even the really cheap ones. The only shred of personality I could see was a large bookshelf, stuffed to the brim with various novels and textbooks.

"Nice room," I commented dryly. Dick had sat down at a desk by the window, booting up a slim laptop.

"It's not polite to be sarcastic in someone else's house," he replied without looking up.

"As long as we're on the topic of being polite, I'm certain butting into someone's personal life doesn't fall into the category," I retorted. Dick only smiled at me, causing me to be infuriated as well as amused, two emotions that did not like to sit well with each other.

"I was being politely concerned," he said airily, waving me off. I scowled, stomping up behind him to see what he was doing. He'd already gotten to a search engine and was rapidly typing "Batman and Robin Gotham City." Millions of hits popped up for the Caped Crusaders, most of them news articles.

"There," Dick said with finality. "You research there, I'll get the newspapers. Do you want some water or something?"

"Yea, that'd be great," I said, sitting down in the chair, switching places with Dick as he left to get the water. I quickly opened up a blank document to take notes, as well as a PowerPoint presentation to get started on what we'd actually present to the class.

Dick left without another word, returning a few minutes later, tossing me a reusable water bottle. I gave it a suspicious look, wondering what he could have possibly done to it. He gave a short laugh as he saw me analyzing it. I scowled up at him, using our now familiar angry/humored look.

"Did you spit in it?" I asked, unscrewing the lid to peer inside.

"Of course not," Dick scoffed. "I'm not a child. I poisoned it."

I cocked an eyebrow as Dick broke into a large grin. "Okay, bonus points to Richard for poisoning his partner." I took a swig of it as Dick chuckled under his breath.

"Actually, I lied. I spit in it. Because apparently reusing water bottles isn't a good excuse."

"Don't mock me. I've had a hard life, I can't afford to trust people."

Dick gave a loud sigh as he flopped onto his bed with a few prints of the Gotham Times. "Trust me, I know what you mean."

A small smile played across my lips as we slipped into another silence, but there was an unsaid feeling of forgiveness between the two of us. The bad blood dissipated, leaving the possibility of a friendship, something I never expected from this new chapter in my life.

We probably did research for 20 minutes before a knock came on Dick's door. The person let themselves in and before us stood Bruce Wayne, millionaire philanthropist, old family friend. I hadn't seen Bruce in years, not since a long time before my parents had died. I remembered him sending his regards, maybe a bouquet of flower, but that was it. The man I'd grown up thinking of as an uncle or a really old brother didn't even come to share memories of my parents or console me through hard times.

"Dick, there's been a call- Oh, who's this?" Bruce questioned in his deep, smooth voice. As a child I'd come to think of it as the voice of logic because Bruce always brought up the best arguments.

"I'm Dick's partner for a History project," I said, leaving out my name, wondering if he remembered me from all those years ago.

"It's nice to meet you," Bruce said with a fake smile. "I have to borrow your partner for a while, do you mind?"

"Not at all," I replied with a tight smile. "He's yours for the taking."

Bruce only gave a distracted nod to me, motioning for dick to follow him. The two left without another word, slamming the door behind them.

"And then there was one," I sighed to myself, loneliness beginning to settle in. "Bruce didn't even recognize me…" The sad fact made me pitiful, my old friend, the one person from my past that didn't burn up or fly the coop (like Jilliane did as soon as she could, returning back to England), didn't even remember who I was. If that wasn't a sign from the universe telling me my life was destined to suck, I didn't know what would be.

I pushed the desk chair away from the laptop, exhaling heavily. I felt restless thought I'd barely gotten a wink of sleep in the past few days. My mind burned with new ideas, most of them centered on Fincher and my revenge on him. But some, admittedly, were all about Dick Grayson. I wanted to know more about the smart, snakry kid. How did his parents die? Was he carrying my same grief? Is Dick really the guy I sit next to in Modern History, or is he the privacy intruding guy who wanted to help me earlier today? Easy going or total hero complex? In short, who in the world was Dick Grayson?

For a few moments I actually sat and pondered the question before physically smacking myself in the face for being so thick. Why ponder the small amount of facts I've gathered since meeting Dick, when I can look for answers IN HIS ROOM! I couldn't help but shake my head at myself. Sometimes it surprised me that as a daughter of two brilliant scientists, I could be such an idiot. I faced Dick's room, looking for places to start searching.

I tried to bookcase first, going for the books that were easily in reach, obviously going to be the most read. A thick book caught my eye and curious fingers quickly removed it from its place on the shelf. The cover said nothing, leading me to believe it was a photo album or journal of some sort. I sat on Dick's bed, cracking the book open to a random page in the middle. There was a photo of a smiling family of 3, a man, woman, and a 7 or 8 year old, all with jet black hair and radiant smiles. I recognized Dick immediately, seeing a sort of familiar glint in his blue eyes that could either be mischievous or friendly.

"So these are his parents…" I touched their smiling faces gently with the tips of my fingers, subconsciously thinking that I'd somehow get a better idea of who they were by doing so. But no new information came to me, leaving me to my powers of observation.

With another look to the picture I saw a bright sign in the background advertising a group called "The Flying Graysons." In the foreground there were a few other people, a couple of them doing handstands and back bends.

I flipped to the front of the book, deciding to go in order of the pages to understand Dick's past. There were a few more pictures, some of them of Dick flying through the air, his colorful costume making him appear like a bright angel, tucking and flipping in the air with invisible wings and obvious skill and focus.

"He was an acrobat, a whole family of acrobats…" I whispered to myself, turning the page again, hungry to learn more about this guy who I thought I had an idea about but was beginning to see I didn't know Dick at all.

The next page held some abhorrent information, a black and white news article from about 6 years ago. The headline struck me to my very inner heart "ENTIRE FAMILY KILLED IN TRAPEZE ACCIDENT; ONLY YOUNGEST SURVIVES!" A picture betrayed a small 9 year old, hiding half in the shadows as police investigated the circus. It was obvious to see the boy's agony, though his face was only half visible to the camera's lens.

"Was it really an accident?" I questioned in a whisper. It seemed unlikely that the circus wouldn't check the trapeze equipment before the performance. This whole ordeal reeked of sabotage.

I flipped through the pages of Richard Grayson's life, soaking in each new fact about him, wishing there was more to learn, more to understand. I didn't know much time had passed when the door to Dick's room opened. I jumped at the sounds, slamming the book closed. The elderly Alfred looked surprised as he came in seeing my guilty look.

"I had forgotten you were still here, Miss," Alfred told me politely.

"I'm sorry, I just got curious, and well, he was gone and…" I sighed, standing and hanging my head. My arms cradled the book to my chest.

"Well, curiosity is a vice and a virtue. Malicious intent does not seem to be present here, so we'll just let this go unnoticed, yes?"

I gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much." I slid to boo back into its spot on the shelf, lingering by Dick's book of his past. This didn't go unnoticed by Alfred.

"I apologize for prying, but you seem to be familiar, but I cannot say from where."

I gave a wry smile. "When I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8, my parents would take me over here for Bruce's dinner parties. You would give me ice cream in the middle of the main course and make me promise not to tell the stuffy adults." I reminisced my childhood as Alfred got a misty look of his own.

"It was a long time ago. I didn't expect you to remember me, Bruce either…" I trailed off, gathering my bag, printing the little research I'd been able to get done. "I should go, I think I've overstayed my welcome."

"Not at all, Miss. You are welcome at this manor whenever you need a place to go. I'm sure Master Bruce would feel the same way."

"That means a lot, Alfred." My voice was soft, barely heard in the large room. I met the old man's concerned gaze. "Do you mind giving me a lift back into town?" I gave him a crooked half-smile and he nodded, turning out of the room to start the car.

And with a sad smile I slipped a picture in my blazer pocket, a picture of a boy acrobat, frozen in a happy moment, forever smiling, surrounded by his family.

My footsteps were silent in the night which I was beginning to think of as a close friend. It hung over me, clinging like a second skin, making me invisible to those looking out. The occasional glimpses of moonlight filtering through the thick clouds that hung over Gotham City made my grey suit look ghostly, but only for a moment. Here in a second, gone without a trace, disappearing into the beckoning shadows. It wasn't my goal to hide around in the dark, working on my stealth skills. My goal was hitting Fincher once again.

A couple of days had passed since my attempted study session with Dick. I'd gone over to research Thursday and Friday at Wayne Manor, only to have Bruce whisk Grayson away, still not recognizing me after all those years I'd come to the mansion as a kid. I got some research done myself, but the project wasn't near to being finished. But after school Friday, after I'd left Wayne Manor to go to the orphanage, once night had fallen, Owlet took flight. I took to the now familiar skies of Gotham City.

My flight was relatively short, beginning atop of building in the slums and continuing until I was halfway across town, near the bay side homes where Jerome Fincher took his rests in gluttonous luxury. I landed on the beach, silently in the coarse sand, running to the safety of the cliff. Fincher's mansion was only a mile or so away, easy enough to sneak up quickly.

And before I knew it I was there, standing next to Fincher's garage door, working at the security system. It was disabled within a few minutes, the garage door silently slipping open. I slid in crouch by an antique car of some sort, the paint shiny and obviously unused. I carefully slid gloves onto my chilled fingers. They fit like a second skin, showing my bone structure and tendons, a slight pulse beating in the vein on my hand. I felt my pulse speed up as I took a knife that was tucked into my sock.

The knife in question I'd filched from the orphanage kitchen. It was no easy feat. The orphanage was home to some teens that had problems with temper and with violence. The kitchen was often locked up tight after dinner for the safety of the directors. But if you were smart enough, it wasn't impossible to get in. and I just happened to be one of the sharper knives in the drawer (pun intended).

Knife stealing aside, I crept over to the antique vehicle's front tire. I inserted the blade between the treads, applying careful pressure on the tire. My fingers curled around the hilt as I pushed the knife in harder, feeling it break the surface of the tire, air streaming out quietly. I grinned in success, sweating slightly under my ski-mask.

I looked up, seeing 5 other expensive looking cars. A sigh escaped my lips but with perseverance I continued on into the night, the silent avenger hidden in the shadows of the night.

It was after midnight by the time I got to the last tire. My hands felt raw and achy with the high possibility of blisters. Underneath the gloves my hands were sweaty and shaky but I kept on, putting the knife in place. My left hand trembled as I propped myself up by placing my right hand on the tire to steady myself. I gave a rough push, but instead of the knife puncturing the tire, it slipped, slicing a cut into my skin.

I couldn't help but gasp out in pain, the blood beginning to flow freely from my right forearm. I acted quickly, slipping off my knee high sock and cutting a hole in the bottom with the knife. I slid my suit sleeve up, securing the sock in place on my arm. It began to bleed through immediately but it seemed to slow the bleeding down a bit. I slid the sleeve back down over the sock. With a final surge of angry strength I plunged the now bloody knife into the final tire, hearing the satisfactory hiss as the air leaked out.

The knife was slipped back into my unscathed sock as I slid the garage door back into place. I fled the scene of the crime without a single look back, sprinting across the deserted beach with a renewed sense of urgency. Sure, I'd succeeded in my mission, but I knew I wasn't safe. Fincher could find me and my revenge would be thwarted. That wasn't happening on my watch.

I ran for as long as I could until the streets of Gotham began to actually look familiar, but not like home turf. Nevertheless, I was glad to be safe on the dangerous streets of Gotham where I at least knew where I stood in the whole scheme of things. I slunk down an ally by Wayne Tower, catching my breath in the dark. The breaths came ragged into my lungs, I couldn't help but gasp as I took them in. A part of me almost welcomed the human pain, telling me it kept me modest with the power I held via the owl-suit.

"Well, look what we have here," a deep voice purred in the shadows behind me. "It looks like a helpless, little bird, fallen out of its nest and gotten hurt."

I turned slowly, my eyes adjusted to the dark. A tall figure stood expectantly as though they were waiting for me the entire time and I'd arrived late. The woman was obviously beautiful, her slim figure shown in shiny black leather that clung to her like a second skin. She swung a whip back and forth slowly though something told me she could move it a lot faster if necessary.

"No worse than a stray cat," I retorted, trying not to let the girly-subconscious part of me think that compared to her, I was a flat, figureless teenager. Shaking the feeling off, I looked Catwoman in the eye.

"So, you're the newbie they're calling Owlet?"

"I don't care what they're calling me. Why does it matter to you?"

Catwoman gave a throaty laugh that was both sexy and intimidating. "Snarky little upcoming villain, aren't we?"

"I'm no villain!" I protested.

"Seems to me that is exactly what you are. You've already trashed HAVEN HQ and slashed Fincher's tires. Both criminal acts, though not very good ones." Catwoman shrugged. "I suppose we all have to start somewhere."

I scowled, knowing she must've been spying on me since I'd gotten to Fincher's house. "Criminals prey on the innocent, I'm attacking a murderer. If anyone here is the criminal, besides you, it's Jerome Fincher." My voice was more confident than I felt but Catwoman still looked mildly impressed.

"Nobody said you were eloquent."

"It comes naturally. Hate to brag, but I'm kind of a genius." I shrugged, growing cocky.

"What genius slices their arm while cutting tires?" Catwoman retorted. I had nothing to say to that, but still words spewed from my mouth.

"What do you want? I'm not telling you who I am or what I'm going to do next," I demanded.

"No need to get defensive, kid. I'm here to offer support. I know what Gotham's like. A lot of people think it's only dangerous at night, but during the day the really nasty villains come out. Only their victims know who they are; so their evil identities are always safe from public view. When the victims speak up there's actually a chance for their stories to be told."

"Sounds like we're in the same boat," I mumbled, gripping my cut arm, hoping to keep the bleeding down. It had already started bleeding through the fabric of my suit, making a large red stain.

"Don't go around making assumptions, newbie." Catwoman offered me a fleeting smirk. It was a friendly gesture, but it still reminded who I was dealing with. Catwoman was an ally, at the moment, but she was still a villain, no matter how pure her intentions may be.

"Thank you," I said to the lithe figure in the night.

"Take care, Owlie," she purred, slinking into the shadows, seemingly disappearing into thin air.

"Well, only one thing to do: go home," I sighed. Tightening the sock on my wound, I made my way to a metal ladder hanging down from the top of the building. It was a quick climb to the top and soon I was airborne once again.

The night air was cool as it rushed through the cutouts of my ski-mask. It soothed my flushed and hot skin like a fan would after a rigorous exercise, and I suppose slashing all the tires of Jerome Fincher's 5 vehicles could be considered an exercise. Or a crime. I brushed the though away, enjoying the air as I took in the sight of Gotham at night. It was comparable to a giant sleeping beast, outright aggressive by day, sneakily dangerous at night, but only when awakened. I made up my mind immediately I didn't want to be the person to wake up sleeping Gotham.

No sooner had my cautious thought crossed my mind when a stinging pain erupted in my left ankle. The pain was soon followed by tight squeezing until whatever had its hold on me went taut and I was being pulled from the sky. Fear gripped me as I frantically flapped my synthetic wings to keep from plummeting to the ground. Was it the police pulling me in? Possibly a murderous Fincher looking for revenge? One of Gotham's notorious crime lords? I stole a look behind me seeing only a large dark figure standing on a roof top, reeling me in like a giant fish from the tremulous waters of the night sky. I knew I only had seconds before they had me completely and a silent prayer went out to a god I tried to believe in, asking for luck in a situation I knew I probably wouldn't live through.

The person holding the line gave a strong jerk as I was feet from the roof. They plucked me right out of the air as my arms tucked in, making the wings disappear. I crashed into the stone ledge, pain blossoming in my stomach and heightening in my right arm. Shakily, I got to my feet, turning to face my captor.

My voice caught in my throat as I saw the one and only Dark Knight, Batman. I'd never seen him in person, only in grainy pictures in the newspaper or online. But he stood before me, as real as death. I stole a look to my ankle to see a Batarang looped around it. The sharp edges of the bat cutout had punctured the soft flesh on my ankle.

My voice was trembling as it pierced the night air. "Wh-what are you going to do to me?"

"I just want to ask a few questions," the Bats said stoically. His voice was deep and rough, like he'd been gargling gravel, but it was scary enough for me to take him seriously. I attempted to swallow my fear but the taste remained in my mouth, sour like bile. I wanted to step back from the Bat, but the ledge was the only thing directly behind me. Beyond that, only open air.

"Ok, shoot." I swallowed nervously, forcing myself to take deep breaths. He's just a man in a bat costume, with crazy gadgets on his utility belt. He's just a good guy, who may or may not think you're a bad guy because of your avenging on Fincher… I found out quickly that I wasn't very good at giving myself pep talks.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice carrying in the night.

"I'm just like you, except the people like you for the most part. I'm a fellow server of justice. I'm a masked vigilante. I'm Owlet," I answered cryptically, surprised at my sudden strength. Maybe my pep talking wasn't that bad after all…

"I didn't think you were going to give me a straight answer," Batman sighed.

"Good guess." I sat down on the ledge, vainly trying to untangle the Batarang from my ankle. I was putting up a confident front, hoping Batman couldn't see through the weak charade. "Any other questions?"

"The suit, where did you get it?"

"I don't ask you where you got your cowl or anything, why should I share my costume secrets with you?"

"Owlet, that's what you're parading around as? Why?"

"Owls are wise. I hoped maybe I'd get some of their wisdom if I used them as my symbol. And there's the whole thing with the suit." I shrugged after my explanation, feeling dumber by the second. I didn't know if he could see it in the darkness, but I was shaking like a Chihuahua on caffeine.

"Why are you fighting Fincher? What could you possibly gain from going after a human activist leader?"

My expression grew dark though I doubted Batman could see. "He ruined my life. He's a murderer. I'm just delivering justice."

"Justice or revenge?" The hero asked, playing along.

"Both," I told him defiantly, momentarily forgetting that the Bats scared the crap out of me. Batman nodded and I sensed the conversation coming to an end. "I have to go. I have a couple of new injuries to take care of. Speaking of injuries, mind getting this off?" I looked down and gestured at the Batarang, still looped around my ankle, then back up at Batman, but by that time he was gone, as if he'd disappeared into the sleeping monster that was Gotham City.


	5. Strangers Walking Up and Down the Boulev

AN: My favorite chapter so far, hands down! I worked really really hard on this and if you guys don't like it I think I'll just die :P So anyways, read, review, you know the drill.

Strangers Walking Up and Down the Boulevard

The weekend was graciously accepted by my ever healing body, giving me time to get back to health before the school week started up once more. I had bandaged my cut wrist and forearm and stuck a modest band-aid on the small, vampire-like punctures on my ankle. I'd taken all the gauze from the orphanage's First Aid kit during dinner when nobody noticed me sneaking into the counselor's bathroom. It was fairly easy to sneak around in a place where nobody actually wanted to see you anyway.

I was almost glad to get back to school, though. Lately all I'd had on my mind was Owlet and Fincher and Batman, a good distraction would keep me from having my thoughts in a continuous rut of planning my revenge. I had to admit that after a while it got frustrating, making plans but not being able to carry them out due to lack of time, concentration, or, in my current case, actual ability. When I was at school I could comfortably flounder in some of the more difficult subjects and actually fit in as a regular High School Sophomore.

All that said, I couldn't help the fact that I was eager to get to 4th hour Mod History. Had Fincher let new of the tire slashing ordeal out? What would Dee have to say about the news? More importantly, what would Dick say? I almost rolled my eyes at the thought. I was getting almost dependent on having Dick's strange opinions and curious amount of knowledge on any particular subject. But there was no other person I knew who could argue as eloquently and logically as Grayson could, and for that, I admired him.

As I made my way to Modern History, I toyed with the idea that Dick's past had a bigger affect on his personality and know-how today than I might've initially known or assumed. How much more to Dick Grayson was there that I didn't know? Or that anyone really knew. I couldn't stop the train of thought even after I got to Mod History. Did anybody really know Dick Grayson at all?

"Hey," the person of my thoughts greeted as he slid into his chair gracefully, making me jump at his sudden appearance. "How was your weekend?"

"Pretty uneventful," I answered truthfully. I absentmindedly scratched at the gash I'd given myself on Friday night while slashing Fincher's tires, hoping to make the white gauze less itchy. I had rolled up the sleeve of my starch white shirt earlier in the day due to the uncomfortable feeling the bandages were causing me. There were already rumors of me cutting myself like I was a depressed little rich kid looking for attention. Essentially, I was. I did cut myself, just not intentionally, I also was a sad rich kid looking for attention from her parent's murderer. The only inconsistency was the fact I was dressed as a giant owl while doing so.

"Another cut?" Dick asked, cocking an eyebrow at the new bandage.

"Kitchen accident," I replied lamely.

"You ever consider going to the hospital if you're going to be so klutzy all the time?"

I snorted, unable to control myself. "I can take care of myself."

"Says the girl with 3 or more injuries," Dick countered smoothly.

"Where did the 'or more' come from?"

"You're sitting extremely straight which you don't usually do, leading me to believe you've got some sort of flesh wound on your stomach. And if I'm not mistaken there the tip of a band-aid sticking out from the top of your left sock, which makes it possible you have some sort of minor cut there as well."

I gaped at Dick, wondering how he could've been so observant. "Good guesses," I stammered quietly, looking down at my clasped hands in my lap.

"So are you going to tell me what really happened?" Dick pressed, suddenly annoying me more as each second passed.

"Probably not," I told him, massaging the long cut on my forearm under the thin layer of gauze.

"So what exactly did you do in the kitchen to have this accident?" It was obvious Dick didn't believe my excuse, he was just humoring himself by playing along, teasing me to get the full back story on my fake excuse.

"Why are you assuming I did something to it?" I snapped.

Dick smirked like he could tell he was getting to me, but he continued talking anyway. "Are we going to my house after school to research Batman and Robin?"

I stiffened at the names but quickly relaxed. Unfortunately this was not lost on Dick.

"What? You don't want to do a project on the Masked Marauders?"

"I could really care less about the Dynamic Duo, Dick, I really could," I sighed, losing patience and the will to argue. It was amazing how Batman could change from an inspiration to a fear in the span of a week.

"Would you rather have done Owlet?" He questioned. I shook my head vehemently.

"Hell, no," I said with my jaw set.

"Why not? She seems interesting."

"She's only been around for about a week or so, how much information could the press possibly have on her?" I countered, making Dick stop and ponder his next jab.

"It's a good point. But maybe if we had to research her we could wait around Jerome Fincher's house and see if she showed up. Then we could interview her and probably get an A on the entire project." Dick looked proud to have thought of something to oppose my argument.

"Oh, so you're saying we should stake out some criminal's lair in Gotham and wait till Batman and Robin show up so we can get some quotes for a school project?" I choked out a laugh at the absurdity of the idea.

"No way!" Dick exclaimed. At this reaction I gave him a strange look which he took in stride. "I mean, Batman and Robin are really busy superheroes. All Owlet's doing is getting revenge on some millionaire. I mean, nobody even knows her motives."

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to expand on the Owlet topic any longer. "Whatever. Fine, let's research today at your house after school. Are you going to abandon me again and make me do all the work?"

Dick shot me a cocky grin, mischief obvious in his eyes. "Now why in the world would I do that?"

"I should've known," I sighed, sitting myself in front of Dick's personal computer in his room. After about an hour or so Bruce had come once again to take Dick away from his academic duties. In short? I was stuck with all the work again.

But as the dutiful partner I was, I researched the Dynamic Duo, typing up a pretty good rough draft essay on the two, saving it on Dick's computer. I figured he could edit it himself, since he was such a genius to begin with. I left the house around 5, getting another ride from Alfred back to Gotham as a slight sprinkle of rain began to come down in the night.

I thanked Alfred, going inside the orphanage to quickly change out of my Gotham Academy uniform and into a pair of jeans and a zip up hoodie. I was back out the door within two minutes, not even pausing to grab a bite to eat. I was down the streets of Gotham without anyone speaking a word to me, it was like I didn't even exist. A shudder ran through me as I pulled my thin hoodie around my neck. It was brisk night made worse only by the chilling rain and even chillier mysteries hiding in the shadows.

My parents had always told me though Gotham was a magnificent city by day, at night it was a dangerous place, even when you were with someone else. But I looked to the empty space to my left and right, confirming the frightening fact I was alone.

But I didn't feel fear as my shoes slapped the damp pavement caused by the dreary drizzle which has started to come down even harder. A sane person would've turned and fled the moment they touched ground in the ugly and rundown slums, usually called the Narrows. It was well known that drug dealers met here, that crime thrived, that murder wasn't uncommon. The small portion of sane left in me wanted to turn and flee, to catch a late bus to downtown Gotham and to sneak back into the orphanage across the street from the abandoned police station and next to the suspicious looking bakery, to sleep and pretend like I had never come here in the first place.

But I never turned, I never got on that bus, and I barely got a wink of sleep that night. As I continued down the dark, deserted street the light rain continued to soak through my hoodie, chilling me to the bone. My shoulders hunched as another tremble ran through me. The dank streetlamps illuminated my silhouette onto the wet sidewalk, showing me just how small I was. My shoulders looked extremely slight and nobly like I was a little kid.

"Maybe you are," I muttered to the shadow of the small girl. "You were only 13, you barely had time to grow up before they died."

The shadow shivered and nodded, sadly agreeing with me on the depressing subject. I couldn't help myself as I began to cry, hot angry tears running down my numb cheeks. My shadow and I wiped them away angrily, letting a frustrated scream rip through our throats. It was an awful shrieking sound that slightly echoed in the alleyways. Without control of myself, I sank to my knees, sobs wracking my shoulders, gasping breaths trying to force their way into my lungs. The tears shocked me. For two years I had been so good at holding in the pain of my loss. Why did it now decided to come all spilling out?

"It's because you're facing them instead of ignoring them," a soothing voice said. It was calm yet steely like the person wanted to help but knew they shouldn't. I looked up seeing the unlikely figure of Robin, Boy Wonder. He crouched down to me, our faces at least 4 feet away though I could see how the rain was flattening his midnight black hair to his face.

"I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud," I said hoarsely, giving a raw, humorless laugh.

"Why are you crying?" The minor hero asked. "Specifically."

"Life sucks," I replied, vainly wiping away some tears.

"Want to talk it out?" He asked, contorting his features as if arguing with himself internally. I gave him a strange look.

"I thought you were a sidekick, not a therapist."

"I'm not a sidekick," Robin said with unexpected coldness. I couldn't see his eyes behind his domino mask but I suspected they held disdain for me.

"Sorry. I'm just having a rough time here."

"Your parents died two years ago today," he said while nodding. His comment jolted me from my misery.

"How in the world do you know that?" I asked in a hushed voice. I had never talked to anyone at school about my parents deaths, except Dick but he didn't really count. As far as I knew I was the only one who held the day in their memory.

"It was public new. I can read. It's not all that hard to figure it out," he said. Normally the sentence would've sounded snippy and rude, but Robin said it almost tenderly. It made me wonder if Robin specifically looked up my past just to find this out. But what reason would he have to do that for?

I looked at him, red-rimmed eyes, ghost pale face. His eyes were hidden behind the domino mask, whites blocking out his irises. The mask was contorted to fit exactly to his face so I had no way of even imaging a chance to take it off, to see the boy behind it.

"I don't know how to pretend anymore. I'm so used to being the sedate, unbothered one. I didn't just lose my parents when they died, I lost myself. I used to be so carefree, funny, an actual kid, you know?" I laughed through my tears. "Now I'm fighting to keep all this down. I'm only 15! I'm not strong enough to deal with all of this!"

"You are," Robin told me softly. "You've come so far, haven't you? You've beat all the odds and for what? To throw it all away because things got a little bit harder? Part of dealing with something is adapting to the situation." Robin stood and for a moment I was actually scared he was going to leave. I didn't know I'd wanted to talk my situation out until he'd asked about it. Now that I was talking to him I didn't want to stop.

But he only walked to me, getting a firm but still gentle grip on my shoulder, pulling me into a standing position thought I was mostly leaning on him. Together we walked to the mouth of an alley, out of the street but still in the rain. Robin helped me sit down and took a seat beside me as if we were old friends. My hands balled into fists without my knowing, most likely from the frustration and anxiety that had begun to pulse through me.

Robin's gloved hand curled around my own and I was comforted by the touch. Before I could stop myself more tears poured out coming in heart-jerking sobs that shook my entire body. I leaned into Robin, crying in the crook of his neck, his black and yellow cape soaking in the sadness. He positioned himself so that I was at a more comfortable angle, our torsos facing each other. Robin's leanly muscled arms circled around me like a warm embrace in the cold night.

I didn't know how long we sat there, me crying and him alleviating my pain with every whispered assurance and comforting word, getting drenched by the falling rain. My sobs turned to soft whimpers as the night continued on, sitting there encircled in the arms of Boy Wonder. He never complained once, not when I sobbed or when I clutched the front of his shirt in my angry fists. He was like the guy best friend I never had.

Without an idea of how much time we had sat there, I looked up at Robin. He stared back down at me with his mouth set in a thin line. "Thank you," I told him, now able to shake off the sorrow to shiver in the cold rain. "I know it's kind of corny, but you saved me. I didn't just come to the Narrows to cry, Robin. I know what goes on here."

"It was a dumb thing to do," he replied, his breath stirring the hair around my ear, arms hugging me closer as he spoke. "It's suicide to come here alone at night."

"Exactly," I said softly, averting my eyes from his whited out ones behind the mask.

"Mona." Robin took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him. "You're not alone."

"Yes, I am," I said miserably. "My parents are gone. My friends are gone. I go to a school where I can't relate to any of the stuck up kids there. I don't even know who you are. If I'm not alone then the only person I have is me."

"I'm not going to let you be alone, I promise you, Mona."

"Don't make promises you can't keep. Just ignore the hero complex part of you and don't save the damsel in distress when the world needs you more," I told him, remembering the similar words I'd spoken to Dick about his hero complex.

"The hero complex comes with being a hero," Robin replied, grinning cockily. "And if I don't save the damsels in distress, who's supposed to thank me after I save the day?"

"I have never liked the idea of being a damsel, but when you put it like that it's almost too tempting to ignore," I answered him. He tilted his head a bit and at first I thought he was confused, but I soon realized he was getting a better angle, waiting for his thanks yet giving me the choice to let him receive it or not simultaneously.

So I leaned in, kissing Boy Wonder as it rained down on us in the dirty and dangerous slums of Gotham. It was a timid kiss, neither of us really knowing how to react. But his kiss held more than just uncertainty, it held a quiet assertive confidence, a sense of sorrow to rival my own, and a hidden passion that I'd bet he didn't know he was revealing. It all clicked then, at the moment I felt I completely understood Robin. He didn't crime fight for the thrill, he did it for his passion, to make up for grievances in the past. He didn't kick bad guy's butt to kiss girls, he did it because he was pure in every sense there is. He's bringer of justice, a true good guy, a noble crime fighter.

'Great,' I thought to myself. 'You've figured out everything about him, now all you need is his identity.'

But as Robin and I sat in the alleyway, simultaneously comforting one another, I realized that Robin's identity didn't matter, because now I was no longer alone.

"Thank you, Robin," I whispered as we broke away, threading my arms around his neck, hugging his with my face buried into his shoulder. His cape smelled like smoke and blood and metal but it was a lived in smell, making it obvious Robin was going many places as half of the Dynamic Duo.

"Anytime, Mona. Really." He hugged me back, the sensation of being held was one I could scarcely remember, because even though my parents had only died two years ago, 13 year old me had thought she was too old for hugs from her parents. I wish I could let her know now what I'd give to be able to embrace mom and dad just one more time.

"I have to go," I said, unwrapping my arms from around his neck, standing up. Robin followed my lead, towering at least 4 inches above me. "I guess I'll see you around, Batboy."

"Count on it, Ryder." The hero smiled his same, confident grin. In a flash he was swallowed up by the shadows, gone from my perspective. Without a look back, I hunched my shoulders once more, exiting the alley without a sound.

I walked a few minutes in complete silence, alone with my thoughts and a renewed sense of perception. I had never thought Robin could be someone tender and connectable to. What could've happened in Robin's past that made sorrow so prevalent in him?

My train of thought was interrupted as a strong hand suddenly closed off my breathing as it clamped down over my throat. The arm connected to the hand shoved me against a crumbling brick wall, my head cracking against it. My vision blurred for a moment before it was clear enough for me to see a man in a black ski-mask with scarily broad shoulders and a gun tucked into the waist band of his disgustingly stained sweatpants. I'd found the trouble I'd been searching for in the first place, but it was significantly late.

'Great, where's Boy Blunder when you need him?' I thought to myself, adrenalin not quite letting the panic settle in properly.

"Lookie what we got here, pretty little broad out by herself at night. Must be my lucky day." The man's thumb caressed my cheek as it held my throat firmly in place. He held me at arm's length so my attempts to bring him down with a well placed kick were sadly thwarted.

The most I could muster for a comeback was an incomprehensible gurgle as I tried to insult the century that his observations came from (Broad? Really?). All I could really get out what a few gasps for air. The man laughed cruelly, squeezing my neck harder. Black spots danced in my sight as my lungs burned for oxygen. After a little while he released me and I dropped like a stone to my knees, coughing and wheezing on the dirty street.

"You're tolerant for someone with a pretty face," he cackled in the night and a cold dread filled me as I instantly regretted leaving Robin. I couldn't bring myself to look up at the man. As Mona I was stupid and weak, as shown by being taken by surprise and wishing for Boy Wonder. As Owlet I was strong and able, but I'd insisted on taking this walk alone, without the now familiar Owl Girl's help. What a great decision, eh?

In an instant the sound of metal piercing skin and small sparks filled the air. The man who'd been terrorizing me promptly fell to the ground, jerking with the occasional muscle spasm. He was out cold with two taser prongs sticking out from his back. I pushed myself up until I could stand to see an unfamiliar woman. She had very light blonde hair with striking features like her high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes.

"Who-who are you?" I coughed, trying to regain my voice.

"Selina Kyle. Aren't you that Ryder kid? Your picture was in the newspaper today." The woman cocked and eyebrow looking at me as she tapped her long nails on the taser.

A sense of terror seized me, rival to that of being attacked only seconds earlier. "What was I in the paper for?" Had somebody made the impossible connection between orphan, Mona Ryder, and the now infamous Owlet?

"One of your parent's old friends wrote an article about the two year anniversary of their deaths. Had a small blip about your recent enrollment at GA and a stalker-esque picture of you with Wayne's adoptee, Grayson. What's a millionaire's kid doing in the slums in the middle of the night?"

"She's taking a little walk to clear her head," I replied gruffly in third person. My hand found its way to my neck, inspecting the damage. I found a lot of tender spots which would soon form ugly bruises. Despite my current situation I tried to think of ways I could tell Dick what happened without telling him the truth. But did it really matter here? I wasn't Owlet when I got these injuries, so all was well. I got more to thinking about it and realized that since I didn't get the bruises on my neck while I was in the Owlet suit, if anyone (like Selina or Dick when he saw them on me as Mona) saw me with them as Owlet my secret would be lost if they put two and two together.

"Seems to me she found more than she could deal with," Selina commented, pulling me from my thoughts. I couldn't help but admit to myself she was right. I visibly faltered under the weight of my failure to protect myself, slouching low and shivering violently in the cold. My misfortunes had never seemed so intensely obvious before tonight, especially when conversed with to one stranger and blatantly stated by another.

"You ok, kid?" Her voice was laced with an undetectable emotion, maybe a mix between caring and pitying.

"Just divine," I muttered, wringing water out from the sleeves of my sweater. Selina wore a raincoat with a hood leaving her looking warm and content.

"Need a place to stay? I know you're at the orphanage, but I don't think they'll miss a single charge for the night."

I looked up in surprise at the offer. It might've seemed suicidal to even consider staying with a stranger, but honestly, was spending the night a someone's house that just saved you from a major creepazoid any crazier than dressing up as an owl and parading around Gotham at night? I didn't think so.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked in disbelief.

"My offer is solid." Selina gave a smile at the expression on my face, one a cross between utter joy and amazement.

I blinked then averted my eyes to my soggy shoes, flicking my gaze shyly up at Selina every once in a while. "Do… do you think I-I could stay during the day, too? It's been a really rough week." I pushed up my wet sleeve to show the slipping bandage on my right arm. The gauze had shifted enough to show the slit in my skin, dark and red with clotted blood.

Something strange flashed in Selina's eyes as she saw the injury but it soon disappeared. She pursed her lips and for a terrifying moment I expected her to decline my request and withdraw her offer. But then she smiled and I knew luck had been on my side tonight. Selina gestured for me to follow her wordlessly and I gladly obliged, after giving Dirty Sweatpants Guy a swift kick in the ass. Selina gave a purr of a laugh as she saw me retaliate, turning forward without another word.

As I followed her I turned my face to the sky like a sunflower would to the sun, giving a radiant smile to the storm clouds. "Thanks again, you guys. You couldn't help but send good luck my way today of all days, could you?" The smile still stuck on my face even after I looked back to ground level. First Robin and now Selina? I wasn't a superstitious person but I was willing, and glad, to believe anything that came my way, supernatural or coincidental.


	6. Double Identity Crisis

AN: Sorry this wasn't updated sooner, but I've got finals next week and I'm stressed out of my head! But writing this has helped a little, the idea for the big part of this chapter was actually given to me by a friend, so I think I'll just dedicate this chapter to him. Read and Review?

Double Identity Crisis

The walk to the apartment was long and quite but I felt much better walking with Selina. She told me she could also do some martial arts for defense and offense paired with various other gadgets she had on her person that she neglected to specify about. Selina led the way to an older looking apartment building with a deep red brick making up the crumbling façade. Inside was a renewed lobby with a marble receptionist's desk, a textbook example of not judging a book by its cover. We took the elevator to the 9th floor, stepping in front of a modest looking door that Selina unlocked with a smooth gesture, opening the door and slipping inside. I followed, wondering not for the first time if staying at a stranger's place was a good idea, but brushed it off quickly as I caught sight of her apartment.

I was greeted by a small yet cozy flat. It was neat enough without being a pig-sty or OC, which suited me just fine. But what really won me over was the sight of a few cats here and there; some napping on the sofa while others tackled each other, rolling around on the floor. A smile tugged at my lips at the sight. I'd always been somewhat of an animal person but my parents had never let me have a pet. It had always confused me how I got most everything else I'd wanted besides a kitten or a puppy. However, upon seeing the fellow residents of Selina's apartment I could not only feel a warming sense of homeliness but also a kindred spirit in the young woman.

"This place is great!" I exclaimed quietly. A small coat closet was on my left where Selina hung her jacket up, shaking out her unruly blonde hair.

"It's good for what I need. You can stay in that room over there." She pointed to a door next to the small kitchenette and with a nod of thanks; I made my way over to it, eager to get a good rest.

The room was proportional to the rest of the apartment with a bed topped with at least 3 thick blankets. A window opened to a fire escape where I could smell the scent of the rain on the pavement 9 stories below. I leaned against the open window, looking out at the unfamiliar scene stretching before me. I'd gotten so used to the sad look of the Narrows out of the windows in the orphanage I'd forgotten Gotham had different scenery.

In the distance I could see Wayne Tower, tall above the other skyscrapers and office buildings of Gotham. It was a slightly comforting sight only because in the disaster that was my life, it was the only thing remaining constant. My parents had died, yet Wayne Tower stood unmoved. I'd been thrown into an orphanage, but the millionaire's company remained untouched. I had become Owlet and yet the tower and the city around it stayed the same, like an anchor tying me to my "real" life as Mona Ryder, making me remember my roots.

A soft knock at the door alerted me to Selina's presence. She held a small bundle of clothes and a first aid kit and if I wasn't mistaken I could hear the sound of the microwave merrily humming in the background. Selina gestured to the bed and I sat obediently, unwrapping the wet gauze on my arms and my ankle. Quickly she set to work, methodically cleaning my cuts and wrapping them tightly in soft gauze. By the time she was done I felt 200 times better. It was a refreshing and comforting feeling to know someone was taking care of me. She left without a word, handing me the clothes and shutting the door behind her. Immediately I peeled off the wet fabrics, slipping into a pair of warm flannel pants and a long sleeved shirt. I set my wet clothes on the window sill, not quite sure where else to put them. The microwave beeped a few seconds later and I made my way out of the guest room.

Selina stood in the kitchen surrounded by a few pitifully meowing cats. The woman smiled as she spooned some mac and cheese into a bowl for me, handing it to me with a glass of water. "It's all I had on short notice."

"It's excellent. I can't thank you enough." I grinned as I took the glass and the bowl, shoveling the warm food into my mouth without a second thought. At first it burned my tongue but I couldn't have cared less. It was edible and I was starving.

"So how did you get all those cuts?" Selina asked conversationally as she opened up a few cans of cat food, dishing them out in various bowls.

"I, uh, I'm a real klutz. The one of my wrist is from a, um, kitchen accident, the one of my arm from a wall, oh wait, no, the other way around…" I swallowed the mouthful of mac and cheese and gave a nervous laugh.

Selina held her hands up in a surrendering gesture. "Alright, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to."

I sighed. "I'm sorry, it's just kinda personal."

"I get it, I really do." Selina gave a smirk. "Just remember; if you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything." She set down the bowls of cat food. More cats than I expected she housed swarmed into the kitchen to eat.

"Wow, that's a lot of cats," I commented neutrally. Dozens of different breeds were present, calico, Siamese, tabby, Egyptian Mau, and some weird one without hair.

"Aren't they precious?" Selina cooed. She picked up a cat with curly hair, mostly colored orange and white along its body. "This is Baylin, she's a LaPerm. Not that hard to tell because of her curly hair, you see?" Selina scratched the area behind the cat's ears where the hair was indeed very curly.

"That's, um, fascinating," I said awkwardly, not quite sure how I should react. "How many cats do you have?"

"Technically only one. Most of these are strays that I feed. They come in through the window in your room on the fire escape usually." Selina's tone was casual as she put the LaPerm down, giving attention to her other cats.

"That's pretty cool," I said earnestly. I downed the glass of water setting both dishes in the sink. "I think I'll get to bed. Thanks again."

"No problem," Selina replied airily. After stepping over the horde of cats, I closed the door to my room, shutting the window halfway and crawling into bed. The sheets were cold but after a few minutes I was completely comfortable and fell asleep.

Immediately I was somewhere else, and though the sterile room I was in didn't show any signs of where I could be, I somehow knew I was in Arkham Asylum. The room was bleached white from ceiling to floor giving it an almost heavenly quality thought the effect was ruined by the straight jacket that was pinning my arms to my body. It was like I was continuously giving myself a hug, not quite cozy but not really uncomfortable either. I was sitting in a metal chair that was bolted to the floor, tucked under a table that someone was sitting across. The man also wore white, blending into the room besides his extremely dark hair. He held a clipboard and smiled pleasantly at me.

"How are you feeling today, Mona?" He asked conversationally.

"Tired, hungry, my back is itchy…" I trailed off as I listed my current state. "Mind giving me a scratch?"

The man lost his smile, leaning forward in his chair. "Mona, you've been diagnosed with a severe case of depression and a personality disorder where you believe you're someone else." His voice was grave.

"Jeez, doc, thanks for preparing me for that," I said, half-shocked, half-sarcastic. "Nice to see your tenderness peeking through your lab coat there."

"This isn't a joke, Mona. You've been hurting yourself. That's why you're here. Do you understand?" The doctor looked at me seriously.

"I was not! I'm not depressed!" I argued vehemently, shaking my head. "The cuts, they're just accidents, while I was being Owlet."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about, Mona. You aren't Owlet. You didn't get hurt doing 'superhero' duties. You're a normal girl gone depressed."

"But I'm not! Depressed, I mean. I really am Owlet! My parents made the suit, and I use it almost every night! You've got to believe me!" I exclaimed, practically shaking as I spoke.

"No, Mona. I don't. You're not the Owl Girl. You're a 15 year old who's just been admitted here at Arkham. You're our youngest inmate," the man said pleasantly as if the thought of a crazy teenager didn't both him.

"JUST WATCH ME!" I suddenly screamed. "I CAN FLY!" Conveniently enough a window appeared behind the doubtful man. I ran at it using all the speed I had. With my shoulder I rammed into the glass, breaking through it. But as I fell I realized without the suit I was just Mona, and Mona couldn't fly. Screams shredded my vocal chords as I made my way to the unseen ground below.

I woke with a start, breathing heavily, a thin sheen of cold sweat coated on my body. I could hardly keep my cool as I played the dream (or nightmare, really) over in my head. It was something I hadn't known I was afraid of until I faced it directly, the idea that no one would believe I was Owlet when I really was. For some reason unbeknownst to be, this scared me worse than the idea that someone would find out I was Owlet when I didn't want them to. Overall the lesser evil would've technically been the situation in the dream, but what if my actions actually took me there? What if I actually was clinically depressed, therefore a perfect patient (prisoner) at Arkham? Did I really belong housed amongst the true crazies of Gotham City? Was Catwoman right to call me a criminal in the ranks of psychos like the Joker and Scarecrow?

Instead of answering these touch questions I did what any god American would do; I ignored them and went to go eat breakfast. But as I attempted to slip out of bed I was suddenly very aware of a large, warm, tumor-like lump on my legs. Upon closer examination it appeared to be a large cat with chocolate brown fur. My shifting had woken it up, making it yawn with an adorable meow. I couldn't help but "aww" at the cutenesss of the situation. The cat was thin under the soft fur I felt as I picked it up. It was cooperative, letting me cuddle it against my face. I'd never gotten o hold a cat like this, and the sensation easily helped the bad dream be forgotten. The brown cat rubbed its face against my neck with a sort of gurgling-coo in its throat that made my heart practically melt with the cuteness of it. I could easily understand what the appeal of having pets was. They were fuzzy little friends who didn't nag at you or hurt you as long as you gave them their necessities. I got up with a smirk, subconsciously adopting the small, thin kitten, seeing a kindred soul in it.

I opened the door to my room to a mostly empty apartment. Selina was nowhere to be found but a small sticky note was stuck on the fridge handle telling me that I was free to eat whatever I wanted to as long as I was gone by 3 o'clock this afternoon. I gave a small smile, setting the cat down by a half-empty food bowl. It ate gratefully as I fed myself, an untoasted bagel here, glass of orange juice there, and a pear to finish it off. I wasn't completely stuffed but I wasn't starving by the time I retired to the sofa in front of the small television, finding the remote hidden under a sleeping Egyptian Mau.

I turned it to the news channel, seeing the state of Gotham City. No news of Batman, nothing on Fincher, but just as I was reaching over to change the channel a story came on about my favorite bird themed vigilante, Owlet.

"No news has been heard from the Owl Girl in the past few days, but the police department does not believe we've seen the last of her."

"Good guess," I chortled, switching from the short blip on me to some cartoons. It was a nice change to lay around and be lazy though I felt rather useless as I watched the television. I was so used to having to go out and get results, to show the public what's needed, it was odd to sit here and just think and be, well, normal. Yea, that was the word, normal. I said it a few times out loud, surprised at the way it felt rolling off my tongue. It was a foreign word to me, something that hadn't ever really described me.

"And probably never will," I yawned as the fluffy brown cat jumped into my lap, snuggling against my torso. "Well, hey there, little guy. Been seeing lots of you today." The cat licked its lips in reply, harshly rubbing his face against my sedentary hand. "Hm, I sense some role reversal going on her. I think you adopted me so you'd have a buddy to love on you." I scratched the cat behind his ears and under his chin. "I don't mind. I'll be your attention whore any day." He purred and soon was asleep in my lap as I watched the Tuesday morning cartoons.

I'd like to say I was completely bored out of my mind all day, that I was restless from lying around all day, that I wanted to get out into the city and serve justice to those starving for it. But, honestly, this lazy day was one of the best days of my "normal" teenage life. I wasn't responsible for anything. If I was free flying as Owlet, then I was in the Promised Land on this warm couch with a cat sleeping on me. Even though as a kid I'd been homeschooled my parents never allowed me to goof around. My studies were too important, they'd say, your knowledge now will define your future later.

And if only they could see me now. Would they be proud to see their invention being put to (arguably) good use? Would they approve of me going to Gotham Academy? I couldn't help the thought as it popped up in my head; would they approve of Dick? I'd never know, though.

"So your parents died and you have no friends, suck it up, Ryder. If they were alive today you probably would've gone to Gotham Academy anyway and treated them like crap as any normal teenager does. Besides, there's people going through worse things than you. Cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it," I growled under my breath. The grumbling woke up the cat and it gave an "RR!" of annoyance at being disturbed in its sleep. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. How un-asterous of me." I apologized, picking the cat up. I smiled, thinking of Dick's strange take on grammar for a moment before turning my attention back to the cat. I set him down next to the uncharacteristically drowsy Egyptian Mau. With two large, yellow eyes, he looked up at me, but I only shrugged wordlessly, looking at the clock on the face of the microwave, seeing it read 2:00. In an hour I'd have to be out of here. I went back to the guest room, gathering my mostly dry clothes from last night. It took me 20 minutes just to find Selina's dryer, but when I did I gave the clothes a quick spin until they were completely dry.

"There, I'm almost gone without a trace," I said grimly, sliding into the dirty yet dry clothes. I ran a hand through my hair in exasperation and frustration at having to leave. My hair was normally chin length and completely straight, save for the choppy layers. But when I went to bed with it wet, it dried in all sorts of strange ways. Some of it looked curled while other sections just stuck out at all the wrong angles.

I went back to the fridge one last time, feeling like burglar as I ate a little bit more of Selina's food. However, the guilty thought only crossed my mind for a second before I was back to enjoying the food she'd let me eat. At 2:30 I opened another few cans of cat food and set the bowls down on the floor, watching the cats swarm as they had last night. With a final goodbye to the chocolate brown cat, I left Selina's apartment, locking the door behind me.

The walk through the Narrows during the day wasn't near as disturbing as it was last night, though the rain had made the whole place smell moldy. Within a half hour I was back at the orphanage, my bus was driving past it on its afternoon route. The only people who rode my bus were scholarship kids who were insanely smart but 100% antisocial. They all lived in the suburbs of Gotham, not rich but not poor, and certainly not abandoned like me. I made my way closer to the orphanage as a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. At first I thought it was a millionaire philanthropist couple coming to adopt a troubled teenager but as the door opened and the passenger stepped out it was easy to see my first guess had been completely off.

It was none other than Dick Grayson who stepped out of the car. His messy black hair got even more mussed as a strong wind blew some trash around the streets. He looked completely out of his element here in the slums, but he wasn't acting like it. Dick was being casual, looking around, not like a tourist, but like a trained eye who knew what he wanted to see he just had to find it. I made my way towards him, wondering what he was doing in this part of town.

While his back was turned I went behind him, sitting quietly on the steps of the orphanage. Dick was muttering to himself but most of it was unintelligible. He ran a hand through his hair making it stick up in weird places. He finally turned, blue eyes widening in surprise as he caught sight of me sitting there.

"How long have you been there?" He asked cautiously.

"About a minute or so," I replied idly. I twiddled my thumbs as he gave me a slightly exasperated look.

"Why weren't you at school today?" He probed.

"I decided I need a rest day so I called in sick." I stood, smiling at Dick. "Why, did you miss me?"

A light pink blush colored Dick's cheeks as he averted his sparkling blue eyes from my golden brown ones. "No! It's just Bruce had gotten tickets for me and him to see the Fades since they're here in town, but he has to work tonight. I thought since I'd been neglecting you as my partner I could try and make it up to you by going to see their show." Dick fished two tickets from his pocket. I only looked incredulously at him.

"You're asking me to go to the Fades show? Those tickets have been sold out for three weeks!"

"I know. It's a pretty small crowd, practically a private show. You in?" Dick smiled his crooked grin and I couldn't help but return one myself.

"It's a date," I said jokingly.

"Great." Dick seemed unfazed by my word choice. "I'll pick you up here around 8." He nodded, giving a small, fleeting smile to me once more as he walked back towards his car, a slight salute serving as his silent goodbye.

"Well, this should be a fun night," I told myself, skipping into the orphanage, unnoticed yet again. I made my way to my room, slipping inside without a word. Within minutes of being "home" I was in the grossly shared shower, cleaning myself of last night's highs and lows. I let the warm water wash down my lank hair, down my back. It was soothing to my stiff muscles, loosening them where I was able to flex without the tight pain I'd been silently suffering through the last week or so.

When the shower was over I dried myself off, slipping a towel around my body and wrapping my hair up in one. The bathroom on the first floor of the orphanage was small and dingy with a single sink and a mirror barely big enough for the taller boys. I wiped away the condensation that had gathered on the mirror, seeing myself clearly for the first time in days. Though I'd slept quite a bit last night there were dark circles under my eyes like bruises, the actual bruise on my forehead was now fading to an ugly yellow-green that looked grossly infected though I knew it wasn't. In the shower I'd seen the bruises from my meeting with Batman. They too were fading but still had a purplish-blue tint to them. My cuts were healing without infection, which was the biggest thing I could be thankful for. An infection would force me to go to the hospital and have to ultimately explain I was Owlet. Not on my agenda.

With quick but silent feet I hurried back to my room, drying off my hair and making my way to my suitcase, looking for something to war to the concert tonight. I had never actually been on a date before, though this didn't seem like much of a date if I was the only one who thought it was I finally managed to find a suitable outfit, a nice pair of dark wash jeans paired with a V-neck one of the older girls had given to me when she had outgrown it. I didn't want to admit it, but I was excited for the concert, I'd always wanted to see the Fades in show but there was never a good opportunity.

"All it took was having your parents die and being shipped off to Gotham Academy," I sighed to myself, slipping on a pair of pajama pants and a tank top with my wet hair hanging around my face.

"What happened to not wallowing in your pity?" I asked myself quietly in a falsetto voice.

"It's a default for me, I can't help it," I muttered back, grumpily straightening up my room. I only stopped when I realized I'd just answered myself. "I'm going totally insane. It's finally showing." I massaged my temples but it didn't relieve much stress. My blood ran cold as I thought of last night's dream. Was I really crazy, or at least on the road to be? Did I deserve to be carelessly thrown into Arkham? Was being Owlet bringing out my inner insanity that had remained dormant for so long?

"No. Owlet's helping me," I argued softly but defiantly against the haunting thoughts. "We're tying up loose ends. We're righting wrongs."

But no matter what I told myself, those empty, cold feelings of doubt paired with the wild, unintelligible ones of insanity, hung of me like a dark cloud, threatening to rain.

It was almost 8 by the time I started to get nervous about the show. What was I supposed to do there? How was I supposed to act? Was what I was wearing acceptable?

"Stop stressing, Ryder. You look fine. Besides, it's just a concert. Nothing special." I looked over my room wondering if I was missing anything. "Pants, shoes, shirt…" My eyes glanced over a sneak of silver from my suitcase in the corner and I gasped out "Of course! The suit!" I extracted the silky owl suit from the bag, folding it into a small bundle and slipping it into a small messenger bag I'd gotten for my 14th birthday from some of my old "friends" from public school. There. Now I was complete.

I looked back at the digital clock on my nightstand, it read 7:53 pm. Time to go. Within a minute I was outside the orphanage, holding the messenger bag and a light coat, waiting in the dark. I was illuminated by a single orange streetlamp, waiting by myself in the cool night. But I wasn't afraid; Robin wouldn't let anything hurt me. Against my will, I trusted him; I knew he wouldn't abandon me here.

The same sleek black car pulled up to the curb and I gave a sigh of relief. A small part of me had expected Dick to stand me up. I was a charity case for everyone else, why not him? But he got out, opening a door for me with a glittering smile. I returned it as best I could, small butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I sat down as Dick took his seat as well, next to me instead of across from me.

"Let's get this show on the road, Alfred- Woah, you're not Alfred," I said, stating the obvious as I was taken aback to see Bruce sitting in the driver's seat instead of the trusty butler.

"Alfred's got the night off and I needed to go to work anyway," the millionaire replied, smooth and charming as always. "I heard you weren't at school today."

"I've been coming into a lot of injuries lately." My voice carried a sheepish undertone that was only barely detectable. "I took a healing day. Thanks for orchestrating this thing, Mr. Wayne."

"Just call me Bruce, Mona."

I blinked. "You remembered my name?"

"You've only been coming over to the manor every day after school for a little over a week."

"Oh, right…" I chuckled nervously. For a few golden moments I had thought Bruce remembered me from old times, before my parents died, before Owlet. Without meaning to I was fidgeting, my thumbs twiddling, my hands wringing each other, and my feet trying to tie themselves in knots. Bruce Wayne was the only person who had this effect on me, even as a child. Well, Bruce as well as Batman. Those men knew how to strike fear into a girl's heart. I didn't even realize I was digging my nails into my palm until Dick laid a hand on my arm, somehow forcing me to relax. There were bloody nail marks into my palm from where I'd broken the skin.

"So I guess you were telling the truth about being the only person responsible for your injuries," Dick muttered, fishing out a Kleenex from one of the seat pockets, opening up a bottle of water from the car's small refreshment supply. He dabbed some water onto the tissue, taking my hand in his own with my palm facing up. Some blood had begun to pool around the cuts in the makeshift lakebed my curled hand had inadvertently provided.

"Not all of them," I said softly, watching Dick as he systematically worked. "But those stories are for later."

"Maybe another time then." Dick smiled at me, our eyes locked.

And for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I replied "Count on it, Richard." And his wistful yet charming smile cropped up again, never failing to give me thrills and chills. But this time it was more than just the fluttering feeling in my core, it was accompanied with the sensation of an unbreakable bond being formed, a bond that would hold even through seeing the many faces of Mona, though I doubted Dick ever would.

"We're here," Bruce announced solemnly, stopping the car in front of a fancy downtown nightclub. Dick let go of my hand which I'd forgotten he'd still been holding, slipping out of the car thought I'd bet money that I saw the smallest traces of a blush on his cheeks. Like a perfect gentleman (or a corny teen from the 1960s) Dick opened up my door for me. I stepped out with a small smile, slinging my messenger bag over my shoulder.

"Pick us up around midnight, Bruce." Dick waved at his adoptive father, shutting the door and swiftly turning to the main door, leading the way in.

Once we were inside and Dick handed the bouncer our tickets, we were allowed into the stage area. The place was absolutely packed, a thrust stage in the middle of it all surrounded on three sides by crowd. A bar was situated against the wall to the right of the stage, comfy chairs and tables situated nearby. An opening band was already playing and the crowd swayed accordingly to the thick bass line. Bright neon and black lights shined above them, making their hair and clothes and skin change with every flash of new color.

I looked at Dick, a wild grin spreading across my face. "You wanna dance, Grayson?" Without answering he grabbed me by the hand, pulling me into the dancing crowd, closer to the stage. It wasn't long before I noticed he also had a crazy smile on his face, running a hand through his black hair to make it more spiked than usual.

We danced in the crowd, sweating alongside the other Fades fans, but for some reason it was so much more than that to me. This was the first real time I'd seen Dick out of school, away from all of the influences he faced day-to-day. To be honest, this Dick was, for a lack of a better word, cool. He wore a t-shirt and jeans with Converse and I am completely prepared to swear to you he looked 1,000 times better than he ever did in the Gotham Academy uniform, not only in the physical sense, but also in the mental way. To me he just looked more… human.

The Fades came on at least 10 minutes later and the crowd (including Dick and me) went absolutely wild. The lead singer, a good looking blonde whose name escaped me, stepped up to the mic and I could swear he winked right at me. He was saying something over the speakers but the crowd was cheering so hard nobody could hear him. He and the band soon realized this so instead of trying to be heard over the crowd they started to play their set. By the time they finished their third song I was completely out of breath and dragged Dick to the seats by the bar, collapsing onto a sofa with a laughing breath.

"This is great, Dick. Thanks for bringing me." I was breathing hard but somehow he heard me over the blaring speakers.

"Anytime, Mona." A slight sheen of sweat coated his face, changing colors in the flashing lights. He took a seat next to me on the couch. "So does this compare to any of your other nightly escapades?"

I froze, somehow thinking Dick was referring to my night life as Owlet. I almost smacked myself in the face for forgetting my normal life in the heat of the moment. I tried to shrug off the pause. "Well, I don't mean to brag, but last night I met the Boy Wonder himself."

Dick looked impressed, eyebrows raised in surprise. "How did you manage to swing that?"

I gave a slightly guilty look. "Well, I was taking a walk in the Narrows-" I started, leaving out the part of how I had gone there as a weak suicide attempt. "And the stress caught up to me. As I was dealing with said stress, Robin comes up and starts talking things out with me. And before I knew, I felt 20 times better and I kissed him." The last part slipped out with a deep blush. Dick seemed to be laughing at me.

"So you kissed Boy Wonder?" He chortled. "How do I know you're not just making this up?"

I shook my head, smiling widely as I did so. "You don't. But I've got nothing to prove to you, Grayson."

"Aw, I'm hurt. So, let's say hypothetically you did kiss Robin, was it a good kiss?" Dick cocked an eyebrow looking like a talk show host.

"Now how is that any of your business?" I crossed my arms over my chest looking at him with my golden eyes narrowed playfully

"It's not, I just want a comparison," he replied.

"A comparison?" I asked as Dick began to lean forward. It took me a while to register what he was doing, but by the time I understood he was trying to kiss me, the concert speakers gave a loud squeal of feedback much to everyone's dismay. A unanimous groan erupted from the crowd as the music stopped but soon quieted down as a daunting figure stepped onto the stage. Gasps went out through the crowd as a single black light flickered onto the figure.

"Scarecrow…" Dick and I growled in unison. The lead singer had been pushed down to the ground, but he was now practically foaming at the mouth, having some sort of seizure on the stage. The villain must have given him some of his fear gas which caused the rock star to see his only true fears in life like a living nightmare.

That was about the time people started to scream, rushing to the exit which had been locked shut. People worked at moving the blockage but it was slow work and fear was only rising, this time without the help of the Scarecrow's gas. It was as if a light bulb was going off inside my head. What a perfect opportunity to prove Owlet was on the good side of the law, that she wasn't just striking against Fincher, that she was among the ranks of people like Boy Wonder and maybe even Batman.

But Dick was next to me, I couldn't sneak away without him noticing. There was no way to change with him anywhere near me. A light sweat broke out on my forehead as I analyzed the paradox. Change into Owlet and lose my identity or don't change and be at the mercy of the psychotic Scarecrow? I gnawed at my lip, corrupt with indecision. What choice did I really have in the end?

"I have to go!" Dick and I blurted simultaneously, giving each other a strange look as we once again spoke in harmony.

"Just stay here, it's dangerous, Mona," Dick ordered, giving me a steely look.

"So it's dangerous for me, but not for you?" I asked back, retaliating against the normal gender stereotypes.

"Don't argue this, Ryder. Don't move, hide, stay safe. I'll be back sooner or later." I had never seen Dick so serious. His blue eyes pierced me with a stern tone I'd never heard him use before. I only gave a startled nod, letting Dick rush way backstage. It took me at least a minute to realize Dick had provided me the perfect chance to get away.

So I took the opportunity as Scarecrow let out a maniacal laugh and threw smoke bombs into the crowd, slinking into the shadows behind the bar, slipping into the owl suit like I was born to fit inside it. People started to scream even louder than before as their deepest darkest fears became apparent, under the influence of the potent fear toxin. I slid on the ski-mask, fitting the knitted material over my head, hiding my precious identity. Before I stood, I paused as a thought occurred to me about the fear toxin. I looked around the bar, grabbing a handful of coffee filters and stuffing them between the hole in the mask for mouth and my face creating a makeshift gas-mask. Bracing myself for the worst, I crawled out from the safe haven the bar had provided, standing up tall and defiant. Owlet was on the job.


	7. Sneaking, Scaring, and Pissing Off Boy W

AN: I had most of this chapter typed up, and I LOST MY FLASHDRIVE! It's killing me, cuz I had a ton of extra and future scenes for this and it was the only place I had chapters 1 through 6 saved. ARGH! (After starting this again I found my flashdrive, in the washing machine after a load had been through :P I hope it still works) But I got a new computer for Christmas, so I'll suck it up and type up chapter 7 for you guys. Hope you like it.

Sneaking, Scaring, and Pissing Off Boy Wonder

If you've ever tried to sneak up on one of your friends while they're snoozing you know you have to be deathly silent otherwise your feet would give you away. Usually that's all sneaking up entails, quiet steps and light breathing in a silent room and you're good to go. Yea, sneaking up on Scarecrow wasn't anything like that. Fear and panic was thick in the air like a fog as the fear toxin spread to the partygoers. Some became wild, throwing bags, shoes, and whatever they could get their hands on, presumably attempting to keep their terrifying visions at bay. Some objects broke the various neon and strobe lights above the crowd and glass shattered down like razor sharp rain. All of that added to the fact the Scarecrow somehow knew I was there didn't help my chances too much. Of course, I didn't know he knew, so like a blissfully ignorant sneaker, I crept up behind him. It wasn't until Scarecrow whirled around with a maniacal laugh that I realized my plan was a bit flawed. Before I could do much more than gasp in reaction, he sprayed me full in the face with an aerosol can of fear toxin.

Some of the deadly gas condensed on the coffee filters, leaking through to my mouth while some just went straight through the knitted fabric of the ski-mask to my nose. I coughed and hacked hoping to expel the poison from my lungs but I'd already inhaled a small portion of it. Staggering away from the villain my hands cradled my head as a blood curdling scream ripped from my throat. Large orange and yellow flames were making their way up the walls of the nightclub, consuming everything and everyone in sight. I could feel the flames licking my skin, making it burn until my nerves were no more, until the white hot pain was simply unable to be felt. My shoes melted to my feet, my owl suit burned to flaming tatters. And before me stood my parents, their smiling faces charring as the fire took them away as well, the only thing left being their grotesquely cheerful skulls, smiling at me after death.

A sharp pain exploded in my head and suddenly I was on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass. A single stripper heel lay next to me and I easily put two and two together: the shoe had hit me in the head, knocking me from the fear induced vision. The sharp heel had ripped through the fabric of my ski-mask and put a deep gash on my cheek, but otherwise I was fine. I sent a silent thanks to whoever had thrown the shoe. Without them the tender grip I had on reality would have completely disappeared. If the vision had gone on any longer it was almost a guarantee my mind would've been lost to the fiery depths of my past. Most of the blood that oozed from my cheek was caught by the ski-mask but I still wiped some excess away with the back of my hand. Scarecrow's back was now to me as he watched in glee, seeing how the crowd screamed and was wracked with the visions of the only things that scared them most in world. A plan was formulating in my head but it was coming along slowly, mostly having to do with punching his lights out. But after that the whole thing was a little fuzzy. How would I help the people affected by the toxin? How would I get cops to get Scarecrow without getting caught myself? And more importantly, how would I get out of here without Dick realizing who I really was?

"Ok, let's just make this up as we go along, yea?" I said with more enthusiasm than I'd expected I'd have. As I was ready to rush into action like the superhero I was attempting to be, an actual superhero rushed in, stealing my thunder. Robin.

For a fleeting moment I was thrilled to see him for the first time since he'd talked with me in the Narrows. But he had a grim look of determination on his face as he waited for Scarecrow's next move. The villain laughed coldly with glee as he caught sight of Boy Wonder standing before him. Instead of going for Scarecrow again I took a different approach and fled to the stage, ducking behind the curtain. The Fades stood before me, clambering around with their instruments and equipment but froze when they saw me.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, could this night get any weirder!" The lead guitarist muttered under his breath. Behind him on a couch was the blonde lead singer who lay still except for the occasional jerk or twitch.

"Is there an exit in the back?" I asked. For a moment I worried about them noticing my voice from somewhere and knowing who I am but quickly waved the fear away as I realized they wouldn't know me at all. I had also already subconsciously disguised my voice. Instead of my usual lazy, depressed drawl (that was how I heard it, at least) Owlet was lighter and more carefree like she had the world on a plate but was asking for seconds, if that makes sense. Owlet seemed to be bringing out the lighter side of me, the Mona that had died in the fire, the 15 year old who actually sounded like she knew how to have fun.

"Yea, we used it to get our equipment in here and set up." This time it was the drummer who replied. "The truck is parked out there along with our tour bus."

It was then that the plan completely came to me, honestly like a light bulb flipping on. The Fades hadn't been exposed to the fear gas, besides the lead singer. If they used their tour bus and the equipment truck as ferries to the hospital, then the people from the concert could get treated before they went completely insane. In a flash, I was telling them my plan, feeling and sounding confident as the pieces began to fall into place. For the most part they completely agreed, only posing one question.

"There are at least 150 people out there. The tour bus can only hold about 15 and the truck could probably do 20 or so," the drummer said. "What if we can't get them all there before it's too late?"

I had no good answer for this so I did what I had to do. Putting on a brave face I looked the band mate in the eye and said "We'll worry about that when the time comes." Anti-climactic? I thought so, as well as the Fades who gave me an exasperated look. "But right now we need to start getting people out. Two of you need to start the trucks and get him-" I pointed to the lead singer. "Some major help." I looked to the remaining band member who played the bass. "You and I are going to have to start getting people outside."

The 3 band mates nodded at me like I was some sort of drill sergeant, going off to do their assigned work. The bassist followed me back out onstage. The scene hadn't changed much since I'd last been in there though the panic level seemed to be rising. A teenager no older than me ran past us over the broken glass with bare feet, screaming bloody murder as she pulled out her fiery red hair in bloody clumps. With a start I realized this girl was in my Modern History class. She had suggested that Batman and Robin fought crime "just for kicks." The bassist grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her into his arms bridal style so she wouldn't cut her feet anymore. He ran backstage, reappearing a few moment later empty handed. His face was set in a grimace as he saw the disaster zone ahead of him. With a long sigh he gave me a fleeting smile then rushed into the crowd, holding his breath. I gave a large grin, knowing I'd brought this out in him. Without me he and the band would have cowered backstage until the police showed up 20 minutes too late.

The work was slow, seeing as we could only bring 1 or 2 people back at a time. Most struggled against us, thinking we were their fears come to life. A tall college student elbowed me in the chest, knocking my breath from my lungs. Another high school student kept screaming in my ears, making my head pound with an excruciating headache. Yet as laborious as it was, we finally managed to get the bus and the truck loaded with people on their way to the hospital. It was about that time when I realized Scarecrow hadn't been trying to stop us because he was too busy dealing with a problem of his own. With a familiar flash of yellow, red, and black I saw that Gotham's very own Boy Wonder was doing an excellent job of being up the scrawny criminal. At the moment he was barely more than a flurry of red and yellow punches, dodging bursts of fear gas, landing kicks at the fearsome villain, all while smoothly avoiding manic partygoers and shards of glass. I'm not gonna lie, Robin's got skill. It's one of those things you don't actually let it sink in until you see them in action. To sum it up in one word? Robin was impressive, no way to dodge it.

"I feel so useless just waiting," the bassist grumbled, standing to my left, watching the younger half of the Dynamic Duo in action. We stood with our back pressed against the upstage curtain, completely in the shadows of the stage, cloaked from the screaming audience. I looked sideways at him seeing the tight set of his jaw.

"You want to help? Find a broom or something backstage and get some of this glass out of the way. People are barefoot and cutting up their feet." The leisurely voice of Owlet was back, making the suggestion sound like common sense.

"Good, uh, idea." The band mate sounded sheepish as he retreated backstage to get the broom.

"Honestly, people these days…" I sighed, shaking my head. "Now how do I help?" I tensed to spring into action, my eyes scanned the room, wondering where to strike first. I walked downstage to the edge, looking over the crowd, contemplating my next move. Maybe at the entrance where I could force the doors open and get people outside and the police in? Maybe try to calm people down before the transportation comes back? Though as I was thinking, my decision was made for me. Our favorite little Boy Wonder decided to kick Scarecrow in the gut, sending the stick thin villain flying at me. Scarecrow crashed into me with all his bony glory sending us toppling off the left side of the stage to a 3 foot drop.

He landed on top of me, knocking all my breath from my lungs and preventing more from being inhaled. Before I could get up (or at least attempt to) the criminal took initiative, grabbing me by the back of the suit, a switchblade ready in his hand. He forced me to my feet, jerking my head back so that the ski-mask peeked up to show my exposed neck in the dim black lights. Robin paused on stage, frozen in mid-stride with a sour look on his face like he'd smelled something awful.

"Another step and Owlie gets it, Boy Wonder," Scarecrow rasped. His voice sounded like dry leaves on a Halloween's night, dancing in the chilly wind.

"She's a villain as well as you. Why should it be my business to save those in your league?" The teen hero spat. Behind the ski-mask my eyes widened. Would Robin really let Scarecrow kill me?

Scarecrow laughed humorlessly, the sound lacking emotion. "I know your type, Boy Blunder. You want to be the hero and save the day, to prove dear old Batman you can do it all yourself. Pathetic teenagers. And yes, Owlet, I'm referring to you as well." Since Scarecrow held me in front of him I couldn't see his expression but I swear I could hear the smile in his voice as he rasped out the next sentence. "Leave the big time stuff for the adults, kiddies."

Scarecrow must've been too into his little rant to see Robin reaching for his utility belt. I only knew what was going on a split second before it happened, yet it was more than enough time to brace myself for the coming actions. My body tensed as Robin threw a Batarang (or was it a Birdarang?) at the knife in Scarecrow's hand. The hero's aim was perfect as Scarecrow let out an anguished cry, letting me go to cradle his now bleeding hand. Spinning around, I kneed him in the stomach then landed a quick punch to the side of his head as he doubled over. The villain crumpled to the floor, moaning in pain.

"Yea, not so fun, is it?" I hissed, mostly to myself, feeling empowered as I stood over the criminal.

I turned to look at Batboy but he was suddenly hurdling through the air towards me and Scarecrow. I gave an instinctive yell, dodging his thick soled boots by crouching down to the ground. By the time he'd landed I had already scrambled onto the stage. Robin glared at me, a total 180 from the night before, and in a low, threatening voice he growled "Stay out of my way."

I noticed a few things in Robin's warning. Numero uno: Robin kind of hates Owlet but apparently doesn't mind Mona. Number two: Even though he hated me as Owlet, he still saved me from Scarecrow, which only fuels the whole "totally pure" argument from last night. And number three: Robin said "Stay out of my way." Not our, as if he would have been referring to him and Batman. Just "my", like Owlet was a nuisance he was taking personally. Wow, I'm so flattered.

"Duly noted, Batboy!" I grinned at Robin as he handcuffed Scarecrow, giving him an enthusiastic salute before disappearing backstage. Once hidden behind the curtain, I began to sprint. If I could find a way to get from backstage to audience level I could get to the bar area and be able to change back into my civilian clothes as Mona Ryder.

Luck must've been on my side that night because within a few minutes an exit popped up, leading down a short flight of dark stairs to a back door at the bar. Discreetly as possible I slipped through the exit. I spotted Robin dragging Scarecrow onto the stage, securing the villain to a metal pole that supported the stage lights with a Batarang and some of that unbreakable wire. Though he'd been caught Scarecrow had a wide grin on his face like he'd accomplished all he'd been there to do. I ignored his disturbing smile as I hid my change from vigilante to civilian. The owl suit was a little difficult to take off this time around, my sweat making it stick to my body even more than usual or necessary. But soon I was Mona Ryder, discarding the slightly bloody and sweaty coffee filters and stuffing the useless ski-mask and the suit into the messenger bag.

I stood cautiously, slipping the strap of the bag securely over my shoulder as I looked around to see if anyone had noticed the transition. It seemed that most people were beginning to have the symptoms of the fear toxin lower, the wild look disappearing from their eyes, their breathing becoming much more regular, and their actions starting to make sense. Some people's toxin had worn off, though they were still in shock from the abhorrent images as well as the pain their body had experienced throughout the fearful episode. I bit my lip in worry as I saw the state of these people. Were any of them permanently hurt? Did all of them have to be hospitalized? Worried questions floated through my head yet no answers came. Apparently along with giving me freedom and a slight sense of humor, the owl suit also acted as a thinking cap. Answers and suggestions seemed to come so much easier with the now familiar grey fabric fitted onto my body.

"Mona!" Dick called, rushing to me from the mass of the crowd. His hair was wet with sweat, his eyes slightly crazed-looking seeing as more of the whites were visible than the actual iris. I was scared that Dick had gotten into some of the fear gas as well, but besides the eyes he seemed completely normal. When he reached me he grabbed me by the shoulders, holding me at arm's length as if he were inspecting me. I cocked an eyebrow, posing a silent "Why…?" Dick sighed, releasing my arms. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Is it just that scratch on your cheek?" He asked, touching the long line of dried blood with his thumb I'd gotten from being hit with the stripper heel. I nodded in the affirmative.

"Well, could've been worse." Dick sounded a bit guilty as if he was to blame for the (comparably) minor injury. "Did you get hit with any of the toxin?"

Within seconds I could feel how the color had drained from my face, complete with a horrified, aghast look at the memory of the awful experience. The fire, my parents, their skulls… I grimaced, squeezing my eyes shut and opening them again, hoping to erase the morbid vision. "J-just a little bit…" Though only minutes before I'd been the confident Owlet, I was now stuttering and terrified Mona. The personalities flip shocked me seeing as it was easily changed from vigilante to citizen.

Dick looked grim but said nothing, checking his phone for the time. I glanced at the screen seeing 9:24 pm displayed. The whole Scarecrow incident had lasted more than an hour! How long had I been under the influence of the fear toxin? It had only felt like a few minutes, maybe 5 or 10 at the most. Had it actually been closer to something like 30 or 40 minutes? The thought scared me, made me wonder if I'd said anything compromising. Did anyone know the identity of Owlet? I glanced over the room once but everything seemed to be normal, for the present circumstances, at least. Maybe I was just overreacting, maybe my identity was safe as well as my intent. Maybe I was getting all worked up over nothing.

"Well, I guess we'd better call Bruce," I said flatly, looking at Dick with a level gaze. His eyes widened even more and his mouth dropped open.

"Wha-why?" He tried to play it off as if he were clueless to what I was talking about.

"So he can come pick us up. What else? It's not like this is much of a concert anymore. It's not even a crazy party, it's just a disaster area." I gave Dick a curious look seeing that he now appeared extremely relieved.

"Right, yes, a ride." He gave a slight nervous laugh before pressing the sleek phone to his ear as he placed the call. Seconds later he was mumbling into the phone quickly, his free hand making various hand gestures as he spoke. He and Bruce seemed to be having a rather heated conversation and it seemed doubtful that it would only be about getting a ride home. But like the polite little society girl I'd been taught to grow up as, I just calmly laced my fingers together and idly rocked on my heels, waiting for the conversation to finish.

Dick hung up a few minutes later, fuming as he shoved his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. A scowl marred his face as his hand curled into a tight fist. It was obvious to tell he was upset, about what, though, I was clueless. Instead of being polite society girl I decided to switch gears to nosy, good friend. With a slight pout I looked Dick in the eye.

"Have a disagreement with Wayne?" I asked. It was an innocent enough question, not 100% nosy but also concerned about him.

"You'd think I would've learned by now that Mr. Big-Shot-Millionaire makes all the decisions." Dick looked like a little kid as he huffed. You could tell he was fighting his stubborn side to follow Bruce's wishes, whatever they were.

"Well, Mr. Wayne is a smart guy, though I know he can be kinda bossy. I bet it'll work out okay in the long run, though." I tried to be impartial to both sides but it seemed that I was leaning more towards Bruce's side than Dick's.

"I guess so," he grumbled, almost resigned like he had decided to give up on this fight.

A large crash interrupted to conversation as the doors to the entrance blasted open. A few people who were standing too close shrieked as their skin was licked by hungry flames leftover from the explosion. My eyes went wide as police filed in, all in thick Kevlar uniforms, wielding large guns. Some busied themselves with the fire but I barely noticed. I had backed up as far as I could from the fire, painfully running into a count with my lower back, my mouth open in a silent scream. It hardly mattered that the flames were being tended to, fire was unpredictable, uncontrollable, and deadly. One slip-up and the whole place would suddenly be engulfed in yellow and orange and my fear induced vision would come to life…

"Mona! Mona, calm down, they're taking care of it, just don't look at it, ok? Turn around or something-" Dick's supportive comments and suggestions were soon drowned out as the flames tickled the sensors to the sprinklers in the ceiling. Promptly the inferno was doused and I was able to breathe again, gasping in relief.

"Mona," Dick repeated, stepping in front of me. "What was that?" I had never heard Dick be so quiet and curious and almost… frightened. Was he scared for me?

"It's a long story…" I said slowly. I couldn't seem to bring myself to look into his glittering blue eyes. "Can we just get out of here? Besides, we're getting soaked."

The sprinklers were soaking everyone in fact. Though the fire had been put out long ago the man-made rain still poured down from the ceiling, shocking people from their fears by the cold water. Though the scene had been disaster fueled by fright only minutes ago, it was now just a large group of very wet and injured people, hair hanging into their faces and makeup running down their skin. Some policemen led pairs of people out to the lobby while other dealt with Scarecrow, untangling him from the stage support.

"Looks like Bats Jr. was here," a detective stated, holding up the red, bird shaped boomerang/throwing star.

"Without him the Scarecrow would've gotten away with all of this," another younger policeman pointed out. The first detective glared at the rookie.

"Doesn't mean I have to like his help." The growl was barely audible but as Dick and I passed the two on our way to the exit the mutter was made obvious.

"Funny how ungrateful people can be," I said under my breath to Dick. He gave a small chuckle but it was obvious that it was forced. Dick put an arm around my shoulders, leading me around large spots of broken glass to the exit where people had begun to flock out of. His arm kept me close, pressed against his side as he navigated the crowd. It seemed like ages before we were able to make it outside. The temperature had dropped significantly in that past hour and a half and my wet clothes only chilled me further. Dick led me to a wooden bench situated 10 feet or so from the entrance. As we sat I remembered I'd left my jacket in Bruce's car and congratulated myself on the brilliant move with a violent shudder.

"I didn't know you were afraid of fire," Dick said quietly. We sat with our legs barely touching, but the slight contact was enough to feel the slight heat radiating from his body.

"I told you before that my parents died a couple years ago," I started, my voice choking up with every word. "Someone set fire to their lab while they were in it. My dad went to go help my mother and they both go trapped. They died in the fire."

Dick was silent for me, letting me take my own time to gather my strength before continuing on. "I was with them that day in their lab. They had just finished a long project and let me look at it when the lab caught fire. When my dad left there was another explosion and I was thrown into the midst of the fire as well. There was a large pillar that fell. A section of it was on fire and it pinned me to the ground. I've got some scars from the flames where the doctors couldn't fix me. I almost died in the fire that killed my parents, and it haunts me every single day." I finished in a lower tone, my head bowed down as I let a few silvery tears fall onto my clasped hands in my lap. And , like a good friend, Dick let me cry, not pestering me or uselessly attempting to comfort me. It wasn't as if he didn't know what he was doing, it was like he knew I needed time and silence to heal, not empty promises and words. The usually threatening silence had slipped into a thoughtful one where Dick and I were able to contemplate without interruptions. Then it was Dick's turn to speak.

"I grew up as a circus performer, an acrobat actually. My parents and I were called 'The Flying Graysons' and were a big part of the circus. When I was about 8 a Mafia boss named Tony Zucco was blackmailing the circus. When the circus wouldn't give him what he wanted, he sabotaged the high wire for my parent's act. From the wings I watched them fall to their deaths and Zucco got away with it all. Even today he's at large." Dick's hands curled into tense fists as he squeezed his eyes closed, agony painted across his face. So we weren't that different after all, I supposed. The tragedy of our parent's deaths still hung over us, haunting us from day to day without cease.

My arms found their way around Dick's slim torso as I gave my kindred soul a good old fashioned hug. It felt far overdue seeing that we'd known each other for over a week now. But I guess trust takes a while to build up. And, funnily enough, it always seems to only take a few moments to crash that trust down. I looked at Dick's face seeing the traces of tears on his cheeks as well and laid my head on his shoulder hopefully in a show of support. I truly did know what he was going through, I knew how he felt and what he wished most in the world, what he wanted to do to their murderer… It was odd to feel like there was someone who was going through exactly what I was.

Well, not exactly. Dick didn't dress up in a ridiculous costume and hunt down the murderer of his parents at night. Though I'd shared more with Dick than I had with anyone else I didn't think he'd understand the whole Owlet thing. The only person who really would understand hated Owlet. Need I say who? I will anyway, I like the way it rolls off my tongue; The Boy Wonder. He led duel lives and must know the repercussions that I was just now getting used to. There probably wasn't anyone else in the world who knew what I was going through and, most importantly, why. But Batboy wouldn't allow Owlet within 100 feet of him before he had cuffed her or something most likely worse considering he was Batman's protégé. The Dark Knight has long been famous (or feared) for his "ways" of getting people to cooperate or tell him what he wants to know. It only seemed logical that Boy Blunder would learn some, though by teaching or by watching it was debatable.

After a few moments or so I ended the hug, returning to my side of the bench. Dick seemed to deflate a little bit, like his pride and the walls he built up had come down, like his guard had relaxed just for me. It was an accomplished feeling that filled me after that. Dick had shared personal information with me; he had given me a piece of his past. I mean, sure, I already knew he'd been an acrobat and that the trapeze accident had killed his parents, but the fact that he shared it with me meant that I was more than just the girl he sat next to in Modern History. I was more than just a partner for a project. I was a friend.

"Mona?" Dick asked suddenly in the quiet night.

"Yea?" I replied. Dick's hand found my own, comforting me with the warm touch.

"You can tell me anything, you know. I'll always be here for you. Don't think that you have to go it alone." He gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks, Dick. You know, there's always going to be some things you just won't be able to be there for." I used Dick's shoulder as a head rest once more, shivering as I did so. "But for everything else I'm glad I'll have you."

We settled into idle silence, watching as help came to pick up the injured and as the Fades came back. We were close enough to hear them talking to the Police as well as the Press, saying how Owlet had organized the plan to get some of the worse hurt crowd to the hospital. They were arguing valiantly for Owlet's sake, making her sound like a Good Samaritan in training instead of the amateur villain I seemed to be acting as. I smiled a little knowing Dick couldn't see. The bumps and bruises and scratches were worth it if Gotham finally got to see what Owlet was all about.


	8. Reunion With Robin

AN: I am planning on finishing Part 1 before the year is over. Will I? Let's find out, shall we? And I suppose I should put a disclaimer so I don't get sued or anything. I don't own Batman, or Robin. DC Comics does, and I am sooo jealous. I do, however, own Mona, and her plotline, so :P Please read and review :D

Reunion with Robin

It was almost 10 when Bruce got there. The two of us climbed into the car and I quickly slipped my partially dry arms inside my jacket, letting the fabric warm my core. Bruce turned up the heat after Dick had closed the door and quickly drove away as if he didn't want to get mixed up with the police. Nobody spoke for a while, and since Bruce was there the silence was automatically made (for a lack of a better word) totally awkward.

"So, fun concert?" Bruce asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. I couldn't help but smirk.

"I thought it was great till Scarecrow showed up. Though when Boy Wonder and Owl Girl showed up it was pretty cool, too," I answered. Dick stayed silent.

"Hm, sounds like a busy night for crime in Gotham." Bruce's tone was gruff so I didn't even dream of correcting him about Owlet helping.

"I hope nobody got seriously hurt," I said after a moment, needing to fill the silence. "There was a lot of broken glass."

"Well, at least Scarecrow was caught," Dick commented. "It would've been even more tragic if he'd gotten away with it all."

"Good point," I muttered, still feeling a bit uneasy. What if there was more I could've done for those people.

"It's in the past, Ryder. Look to the future. Right now you need to focus on getting revenge on Fincher, that and only that. Sure, it was nice, dipping your feet into the superhero pond, but that's just not you. You're Owlet, and Owlet strikes at Fincher, Owlet doesn't save normal by-standers unless absolutely necessary." The words formed on my lips but they were only spoken in my head.

"You think you'll be okay to go to school tomorrow, Mona?" Dick questioned, pulling me from my thoughts, back to reality.

"Yea, I mean, it's just a scratch. I've had worse." I gave a wry smile.

"No, I was talking about the fear toxin," he said in a low voice. "You went kinda crazy."

"Is that the technical term?" I inquired. This got a small smile from him but he was mostly serious.

"I'm not kidding, Mona. The toxin could've messed something up in there." He gestured to his head which was still wet from the inside sprinklers. It hung down in his eyes like a mask, making him look mysterious and as if he were hiding something. Well, that's new.

"I'm fine, Dick, really." Bruce pulled up to the curb in front of the orphanage. "I'll see you tomorrow. I guarantee it."

He smiled benevolently at me for a moment which I found a bit unsettling but also slightly pleasant. Dick wasn't the benevolent type, but the kind smile somehow worked with his usually steely, sheltered, and sarcastic self. The oxymoron of feelings and actions showed the Richard Grayson he wanted everyone to see and the Dick Grayson I had seen. I returned his smile with a shy one of my own, climbing out of the car and up to the front door, slipping inside without a backwards look.

I went straight to bed, falling asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. I'd like to have said my dreams were good or at least satisfactory, but I would've been lying. As I slept the awful vision of my parents burning before me returned, but this time nobody was there to stop it. The dream was more than just my parents, though. Now it was the entirety of Gotham Academy, the school and the students going up in flames as I watched from outside. Fiery debris rained down around me as screams of terror filled the ashen air. Something told me this was my fault, but I had no idea how. Some students and teachers ran out of the building, quickly collapsing to the ground. A tall boy came staggering out and fell to his knees before me. I bent down to level with him, seeing the soot streaked face of Dick Grayson, his piercing blue eyes screaming for help as his mouth was frozen in a silent shriek of pain. Every time I reached out to help him a new burst of flames would appear on him, some on his shirt, the next batch on his face, burning his skin to black ashes until he was no longer recognizable.

The dream continued on for a few more moments before melting into darkness. The nightmare might've been over for the night, but my subconscious knew I'd remember it clearly when I woke up the next morning. For now I suffered in the dreamless fitful sleep.

"Richard!" I called with a slight smile as I slipped into my chair in Modern History the next day. "It's good to see you."

Dick gave a small smile but it didn't reach his eyes, which had large dark bags under them. He looked like he didn't get any sleep the night before which didn't really surprise me. He seemed so upset and worked up about the Scarecrow thing last night. He and Wayne probably researched it all night. Sometimes it aggravated me how Bruce couldn't just keep his nose out of anything. I could remember how he'd leave in the middle of dinner parties just to go read or watch about something new happening in Gotham, mostly (and unsurprisingly, due to the city) about crime.

"You look like death warmed over," I said frankly.

"Thanks. It's a new look I'm trying."

"A-ha. Clever. Did you get any sleep at all, Grayson?"

"Not really, no. Guess I was just paranoid." Dick rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, stifling a yawn.

"See, it's no fun coming to school when you're exhausted," I chided Dick as I pulled out a notebook and a pen, getting ready to actually learn something in the class.

"Okay, you've got a point, Ryder." Dick looked at me bleary eyed. "I could use a cup of coffee right about now."

"Sorry, I can't exactly help with that." The bell rang and class begun on a quiet note as Dee switched on the projector to show the official Gotham Times news report on the Scarecrow incident last night. An accompanying picture betrayed the state of the nightclub. A few minutes were dedicated to reading the entire article, as if I needed to know all of the details. It gave the story as any normal partygoer saw it, pretty much talking about Scarecrow and Robin. There was a small mention of Owlet, with direct quotes from the Fades. At the end it gave a small blip on the Fades lead singer, Lewis Malton, saying that he'd been admitted to Arkham Asylum last night after being affected with an extremely concentrated dose of fear toxin.

"Thoughts, everyone?" Dee asked. She too looked tired like Dick, but her tired seemed timeless, like it had always been a part of the woman. I pitied her but knew it wouldn't do much to offer feeble, useless emotions that would only hinder both of us.

"Will Rosie be okay?" A soft voice asked. It was the desk partner of the red-headed girl from last night. I shuddered as I remembered her awful screams and the way she ripped out her hair. She was in that single group that got to go to the hospital earlier, shouldn't she have been fine?

"I don't know, Molly," Dee sighed. The girl hunched over in her seat with disappointment. "Anyone else?"

"What did they do to Scarecrow? It didn't say in the article. Is he going back to Arkham?" I didn't expect myself to speak up but the question couldn't be kept down.

"I don't know, Mona. And I know this topic is very touchy for you because you actually saw what happened last night, but I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you."

"Who does?" Dick's voice was dangerously quiet in the room. Nobody answered him, though I wasn't surprised.

A few awkward moments later Dee spoke up again. "Please take the rest of the class time to work on your projects with your partners."

Dick and I didn't get much done, but we had a nice little social hour. We talked about the new happenings in the world of Gotham as well as our stances on the issues. Dick seemed intrigued especially by my views of Owlet and Catwoman, but I knew my opinions were unique due to my bias towards them. I was also interested to hear what he had to say about the costumed criminals of Gotham. Dick had a very strong sense of morals and ethics which I soon found out, especially when he began to specifically name off dastardly crimes from the top villains of Gotham City.

"Like when Scarecrow tried to infect the whole city with fear gas, or when the Joker was trying to poison the water supply, or when Penguin tried to get everyone sick with nuclear radiation so they'd become mutated and deformed like him. Criminals of Gotham need to be stopped, no matter how big or small." What surprised me most about Dick's speech was how eloquent it was considering he looked half-asleep. I wanted to give the guy a round of applause for the good show but the aura of the room wouldn't allow any sign of slight happiness.

"Batman and Robin are only two people, though. And everyone knows the police are the closest thing to being completely useless but still being able to carry a gun. New criminals are on the rise every day, and it's not just the muggers or the costumed kind. There's the corrupted businessman kind, like Lex Luthor but toned down. Everybody thinks just because they have a ton of money and run a huge company they're exempt from the laws. I mean, seriously! Anyone ever heard of embezzling or any of those other white-collar crimes? Gotham needs to get a clue."

Dick looked at me for a moment, saying nothing though I could practically see the gears turning in his head. Did I say too much?

"You know, I never thought about it that in depth. You've got a point, Ryder." Dick still looked thoughtful as he replied. I ached to know what was going on in that head of his.

I had opened my mouth to continue but was interrupted by the bell signaling it was time for lunch. "Well, I'd love to come research, but it looks like you're on your own tonight. I've got some stuff I need to take care of." I gave Dick an apologetic look though it wasn't 100% heartfelt.

"I guess I can manage without you," he sighed, getting up and slipping his bag over his shoulder. I was thankful he didn't ask what I was going to be doing. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." We stood there for a moment, not quite sure what to do next. Did any of the occurrences last night change anything between us?

"Uh, yea, bye." I wasn't even thinking when I stuck out my hand. Like robots or something equally ridiculous, we shook hands and parted ways, both of us shaking our heads and muttering curses to ourselves under our breaths.

After school that day I opted to skip taking the bus, instead making my way into the heart of Gotham, trooping downtown in my very typical school girl uniform. It was a miracle that I didn't get jumped as I made my way to my destination, though the fact it was in the middle of the day might've had something to do with it. Nevertheless, I tightened my grip on my bag and forced my chin up to look like a haughty society girl. The uniform paired with my already sharp features helped to easily complete the look. I was even beginning to feel the part when I got to my destination, stepping into the renovated lobby, using the elevator to go up to the 9th floor, quickly finding the familiar door and rapping my knuckles against it. Within seconds it opened to show the beautiful Selina Kyle, icy blue eyes looking down at me.

"Mona Ryder. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Selina's airy voice was a bit unsettling. A large black cat was curled in her arms, glaring at me with glowing green eyes.

"I wanted to ask you for a favor," I said, locking eyes with the taller woman. "You were the only person I could think to ask."

"Well, we might as well take this conversation into the apartment. It's no use having it in the hallway," Selina sighed, moving to one side of the door to allow me to walk in. Her apartment looked exactly the same as it had the day before. Cats mulled around, some mewing at me as if they remembered me. I set my backpack down on the floor and sat on the couch. Within a few moments the same brown cat that had made friends with me earlier hopped into my lap, purring while it did so. I smiled a bit as I gave him a good scratch behind his ears.

"So what do you want, kid?" Selina asked, sitting in an armchair next to a closed window.

I gave a deep breath before looking back at Selina. "I need some training and you're the only person I knew to go to. You said you can do some martial arts and you're obviously versed in weapon combat. You were the only person that I know can teach me."

"What made you think I'd help you?" She asked, cocking a blonde eyebrow. Selina looked dangerous to me at that moment. I knew I'd have to choose my next words carefully.

"Because… even lost owls could use some help from stray cats." I gave a sheepish look to the woman. Her lips were pursed in a tight line and I would've given anything to know what was going on in her head at the moment.

"I was wondering when you'd figure it out." The woman gave a bright smile, like she was suddenly proud of me. "I've known it had to be you since I saw that news article. Where else would Owlet get that suit than from her parents who invented it? My suspicions were only confirmed when I met you in the Narrows yesterday. I could hear the similarities in your voice. And, of course, there was the same cut you and Owlet shared on your forearm."

"At least I didn't make it obvious!" I exclaimed, gesturing to the apartment full of cats. "They're practically screaming 'GUESS WHO LIVES HERE?'!"

"So you want me to train you?" Selina ignored my last outburst. "Why?"

"Because I'm getting my ass kicked by inanimate objects and myself." I pointed to the scratch on my cheek. "That came from a shoe. I need to get my act together so people take me seriously."

"People as in…?" She asked in an innocent voice, like she knew full well who, she just wanted to make me say it.

I gritted my teeth. "Batman, Robin, Jerome Fincher, the GCPD, need any more examples?"

"Ok, ok, claws in, please, we're all friends here." Selina gave a sly smile like she enjoyed toying with me. "What's in it for me?"

"I'll tell the police who you are if you don't," I warned half-heartedly.

"I admire the attempt, kid, but I'm not going out like that, not by being blackmailed by a 15 year old."

I could feel my features slip into a desperate mask. "Please," I begged, letting the desperation creep into my voice. "Fincher killed my parents. He took away any shred of normal life I could have now. And he's getting away with it all. I need to bring him to justice."

Selina said nothing for a while and (not for the first time) I was afraid she was going to just say no, shooing me away like a little kid who was getting denied a chance to play dress-up or something. When she caught sight of my pleading look she gave another sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. "All right, I'll help you. Since I've got time today we'll practice as Selina and Mona, but at night we can work on more in-depth things as Catwoman and Owlet. Understand?" I nodded so hard I was surprised my head didn't fall off."

"Good." Selina stood up. "Let's change into something more suitable and head to the gym. We'll start your training there."

One of the perks of having Dick as a partner was access to his outstanding computer. Bruce Wayne didn't go cheap when it came to technology that was for sure. Dick's laptop had all the latest programs which were easily at my fingertips when Dick would suddenly say he had to do something in the middle of our research time. I used his absence to my advantage, planning my next hit on Fincher. For those days I went to Wayne Manor and "did homework" with Dick, I got my entire plan perfectly flawless from top to bottom.

I knew Fincher was completely money hungry, which was obvious seeing where and how he lived. What I planned to do would deprive him of his million dollar bank account. In short, I was going to hack into the bank system, change Fincher's passcode and lock him out until he admitted he killed my parents and went to jail for it. It was flawlessly planned out, thanks to yours truly. I supposed since I was there too I could also see if his account would give me any useful dirt on him, like if he was paying off assassins or buying drugs or something. Hey, it never hurts to get extra information, right?

After the training session with Selina, I had felt powerful and ready to take on practically anything (though during the sparring session Selina had made me feel the complete opposite, seeing as my face was painfully smashed into the mat multiple times). I didn't have a PE class at Gotham Academy and it wasn't as if I had random extra time to go work out as Mona Ryder. I was so thankful for the chance to stretch my muscles, to feel the satisfying burn in them as I worked out.

When Selina and I had parted ways, I immediately made a beeline to the orphanage, taking a quick shower, shoving some food down my throat, and getting a head start on the homework I had been neglecting for days. When the time came, I changed to Owlet, putting the cruelly mended ski-mask on my face and slipping out the window. My plan had just begun to fall into place midnight at Gotham bank where I crouched down to a hidden external connection to the banking system. It was a small touch screen panel vainly hidden by a few bushes but if you knew where it was and what to do then you were home free. It just so happened that having technologically advanced parents was helpful when you wanted to know how to hack something. I recalled all the pointers my parents ever gave me and used them to my advantage. I squatted down to the screen, my tired and sore leg muscles screaming in protest after a few minutes. But my fingers worked fast, decoding computer language and blasting past security walls. I finally got to a screen where I was able to see Fincher's account history. Most of the transactions were for expensive foods or clothes and even a few for a prostitution service (Wow, what a great human activist, isn't he?), but a very large movement of money caught my eye. It was from the HAVEN organization, straight into Fincher's account… and it was 3 billion dollars. Wasn't there some fundraiser HAVEN was participating in where they were raising money for third world countries? How did HAVEN not notice this amount of money suddenly missing from their funds? An all caps word on the transaction saying PENDING answered my question. This money made my suspicion of Fincher grow to innumerable heights, but I knew if I wanted to hit Fincher where it hurt, I'd have to move quickly.

I was mere minutes away from besting Fincher when I was tackled. A small yelp escaped my throat but their hands quickly clamped down across my mouth, leaving me silent. My attacker's force had caused us to roll a bit in the mulch that surrounded the bushes hiding the external connection. One thing I could definitely say was that rolling in mulch was not on my Top Ten list of weird things to do at night when you're being attacked (though making my attacker eat said mulch was number 6). The person pinned me down, roughly pressing on my forearms, wrists and abdomen. In the soft moonlight I could see that the person who'd tackled me was none other than Robin, Boy Wonder.

"Hacking is illegal," the masked boy told me, his face close to mine as he whispered in the dark. His breath was hot on my cheeks.

"Really? Oops, my mistake! Guess I'll just head home and pray for my sins. Sorry about that," I told him sarcastically. I grimaced as he shifted his weight onto my cut forearm and bruised wrist.

"Sarcasm won't help you when you're the one pinned down," he told me with the playful banter I'd heard superheroes were famous for. It was obvious he didn't learn it from Batman.

"Mind moving your hands a bit, Boy Blunder? Lately I've been accumulating some rather suckish injuries and I want to keep the pain to a minimum," I snapped. Robin smirked and leaned back a bit. I saw my chance and took it as I quickly brought my legs up, literally kneeing Robin in the ass. He was taken off guard and tumbled over me like a comical rodeo clown. He somersaulted into a crouched position as I quickly got into a better pose to face him off. In a flash Robin had three Birdarangs clutched between his fingers in one hand while the other one only clenched into a fist.

"Who are you?" he asked suddenly, switching from slightly flirty neighborhood superhero to serious sidekick in a heartbeat. He narrowed his eyes through the domino mask.

"I'm Owlet; it's nice to meet you too." I replied with bad attitude evident in my voice. "And who might you be?" The mock politeness in my voice almost choked me.

"I'm a superhero."

"You're a sidekick," I mocked, cruelty obvious as I snarled. "Let's make a deal, OK? Just let me finish this and I swear I'll disappear. After this, if Fincher cooperates, I'll stop attacking him."

"What could you possibly gain from Fincher?" Robin questioned, his glare never left.

"He killed my parents. I want their deaths to be avenged. Simple enough, Batboy?"

"I can't let you do this. You have to go to jail, you've been committing crimes."

"And I thought the Caped Crusaders of all people would understand. It's probably because your life is so amazingly perfect you can't even imagine what would happen if you lost those who were closest to you. Even after I told the condensed version of my sob story, you're still just going to take me to jail? I don't see any handcuffs in that utility belt."

"Stand down, Robin," a grave voice demanded. Out of the shadows the Dark Knight emerged. My mouth dropped open but I closed it just as quickly, trying not to look like a complete idiot in front of the Dynamic Duo. Robin looked as astonished as I felt, slowly and cautiously putting his Birdarangs back into his utility belt. I looked at Batman in fear and reverence (It's not like I wanted to, it's just one of those things that happens when you're in his presence. Ugh, I'm making him sound like God or something).

"What do you want, Batman?" I asked my voice wary but relieved he didn't have another Batarang or something to maim me with.

"Here." Batman threw me a wad of grey cloth and something slightly metal that glinted in the moonlight. With catlike reflexes (taught to me by Catwoman herself) I snatched them out of the air. Turning it over in my hands I saw it was a cowl and a brand new utility belt. The cowl was specifically a grey horned owl, with the little ears and everything. For a moment I was overcome with a feeling of immense thanks. I looked at the bat incredulously. "A hero needs a proper mask, whether or not they're a proper hero."

I blinked with my mouth open looking like a dumb fish. Robin seemed to have the same reaction, though on him it looked much less idiotic. Then I realized Batman had called me a hero. What had he found out since the last time we'd met that changed his mind about me? Or maybe he always thought I was a good person, he was just looking for an excuse to show his opinion. The first occasion when we met he could've easily overpowered me, but he didn't. Did that show he trusted me from the beginning? It was aggravating and amazing all in one, Batman letting me hit Fincher, but keeping his reasons to himself.

"So I guess we're just pulling the rug over their eyes, eh?" I asked the Dark Knight, remembering the wine incident with Bruce Wayne so many years ago. Batman was silent before giving me a nod.

"Use them wisely," he said with a strange clip in his voice, disappearing into the dark once more. Robin remained, giving me a suspicious look.

"I don't know why he trusts you, but if I were you, I wouldn't abuse it," he warned.

"Don't be a sourpuss just because I'm not going to jail tonight, Robin. I'm sure it'll happen sooner or later. Anyways, I have to go home. I'm bogged with homework and I had to skip a hot study date for this." Even under his mask I saw Robin cock an eyebrow

"Who'd want to study date with a smartass like you?"

I rolled my eyes "Your kind words flatter me, Boy Wonder, but we're assigned partners. Anyways, I gotta fly; catch ya later, Batboy." I walked swiftly to the connection, kneeling down to it, popping in my own secret 4 digit passcode and submitted it, locking Fincher out of his account. Behind me Robin scoffed, but when I turned to glare he was already gone. I waited in the dark for a few minutes, making sure the Masked Marauders were gone before I slipped off the dilapidated ski-mask and put on the cowl. It seemed to shape to my head tightly as if it were making sure it wouldn't get pulled off. With a smile I snapped on the utility belt, letting it hang onto my hips, making me feel like an actual hero.

"Maybe that's because you are one," I whispered to myself, taking Batman's lead and disappearing into the night.


	9. When Things Go Bump in the Night

AN: So I didn't finish part one before 2012, but I'm going to finish it pretty soon. I believe Chapter 10 will actually be the end of part one, so that's pretty exciting (for me at least :D). I wasn't too happy with this chapter but it's a pretty long one so it'll hopefully make up for 5 days without an update. I've also been thinking that when I do finish this story I'm going to do a small separate story thing of moments that are sort of like deleted scenes from Owlet. I've got a lot of ideas for this but some of them just don't fit in, so feel free to give me ideas of what you want to see and if I can't put them in there then I'll still write it up and have it as a deleted scene. Sound good? I hope so. Please read and review and I promise I'll update sooner with Chapter 10

When Things Go Bump in the Night

The feeling of gaining someone's trust is pretty powerful, especially when that person is Batman. At least, I thought I had gained his trust. Why else would the guy protect my identity even more and give me a utility belt? If the Dark Knight really wanted Owlet off the streets of Gotham, don't you think he'd try harder to get rid of her? I squeezed my temples with one hand, my palm covering my face. Lately I'd taken to referring to myself as Owlet in the third person, and by lately I mean in the past 24 hours, after I'd been able to see myself with the new cowl, of course. It truly was amazing, the lenses were opaque to hide my eyes, but had other features, like a small amount of x-ray vision, heat sensing, and, if I really wanted them to, I could make the lenses go completely clear. In the little ears/horns there were extremely sensitive noise amplifiers and microphones (which I found out by messing with it while sitting in my room at the orphanage, hearing two people in the next room over making out). And, wait for it, the cowl covered my scratch from the stripper heel, thus protecting my identity even more.

"Uh, Mona? You OK?" Dick asked as I continued holding my head by the temples. I put my hand down, looking around, remembering where I was. I was in the back seat of Wayne's car, on my way to the manor to do homework with Dick.

"Oh yea, I'm golden. Just a little headache." I gave Dick a weak smile, sitting up in my seat. I needed to be more careful about what I said and did around Dick. He was my only real friend, therefore being the only person that had a chance of somehow finding out my secret. "It's been a long day."

Dick nodded knowingly. Indeed it had been, considering that the news of multiple deaths had reached Gotham Academy, especially the 4th hour Modern History class. That was where I learned of the passing of the Fades' lead singer as well as red-headed Rosie. I had honestly never seen a group of high-schoolers that were so somber, so quiet, so scared. I pitied my peers because I realized this must've been the first time they'd actually witnessed death and destruction of lives, innocent ones.

"The fear toxin is almost as bad as the Smilex gas," I commented softly, referring to one of the Joker's ways of equaling the playing field. Smilex was thought to attack the body's nervous system, causing uncontrollable spasms of laughter which ultimately hyper stimulated the laughter functions of the brain and left the victim unable to breathe.

Dick grimly nodded but didn't answer me. I could tell his mind was elsewhere and it wouldn't do either of us any good if I was trying to pry anything out of him. I decided to study him as he thought. His eyes were closed as if he were asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly, making his Gotham Academy tie slide to one side of his chest. Dick had brushed his hair back, exposing his entire face. Without his bangs hanging in front of his eyes he looked vulnerable, but not in a weak way, in an innocent little kid way. I couldn't help but smile as I realized how calm he was, though his thoughts must've been less than comforting. I had never seen him this relaxed. Unsurprisingly he was asleep within a few minutes of the long drive. I gave a silent laugh, getting out of my seat to kneel next to him, brushing a stray piece of hair from his eyes that had fallen.

"Innocent little Richard Grayson," I breathed, stirring his hair with my soft breath. "Must've had a long night." I grinned to myself until I caught a trace of his scent. It was hauntingly familiar. It was the smell of smoke and blood and metal. It was Robin's smell.

I reeled back in shock, crawling away from Dick's sleeping figure like a crab. My mouth hung open in a horrified "O" of surprise. There was no way Dick was Robin. No fucking way. Dick was a normal-ish kid. Robin was a superhero. Dick was mild-mannered, if a bit condescending. Robin was bossy and demanding, as well as in a need of a serious attitude adjustment. I squeezed my eyes shut, opening them again, hoping to see a new perspective, one where everything made sense.

"There's no way…" I whispered to myself again, this time it was more reassuring than empty words. I backed away from Dick to my own respective side of the car, muttering the phrase once again under my breath. I didn't look his way for the remainder of the car ride, afraid of what I'd see in my best friend.

* * *

><p>"Quicker reflexes!" Catwoman demanded. She leapt over me with agility equal to that of a gymnast. While she was in the air she turned so instead of her facing the ground, it was her face. She landed on all fours like a true cat, though while wearing 4 inch heels (which was a miracle in itself to me).<p>

I charged after her, my resolve renewed with anger at my failure. In this training exercise my sole purpose was to apprehend Catwoman, either by tying her up or tiring her out. So far neither one of them was even seeming like a possibility. She was too fast for me, it seemed like I'd turn to look behind me and there'd be no one there, I'd turn back and she was standing in front of me with a smug smile on her face.

"Maybe you should move slower," I grumbled, looking around for her in the dark. We were utilizing the easy availability of a building downtown that had been labeled "CONDEMNED" though it wasn't due to be demolished for another 6 months. No one had been in here for a while, spider webs hung from the ceiling as dust collected on everything that wasn't vertical.

I had taken the whole "CONDEMNED" thing pretty lightly because we'd been in there for over an hour and nothing seemed to be completely wrong with the place. That was, of course, until I exited the hallway I'd been looking for Catwoman in, moving instead to the main lobby area. The building was at least 20 stories but I was only up on the 15th level, looking down over the empty lobby while leaning on the safety balcony. If I couldn't do something as simple as tire out my enemy in an exercise, what chance did I have in the real world where I wasn't going to get second chances? I sighed heavily, dropping my head into my hands with my elbows propped up on the railing. Apparently the old and dying building didn't like that too much, or at all really. The balcony railing's support on either side seemed to crumble away without giving me time to catch my breath. In seconds I was falling to the ground of the lobby, 150 feet between me and my imminent death.

"Don't be an idiot, Ryder," I muttered, rolling my eyes and snapping out my arms. "What good does it do to be dramatic when you know you can save yourself?"

My wings caught the air flawlessly, tugging me higher like an angel going to heaven. I thrust my legs over my head as I neared a balcony, turning in midair and pushing off from the ledge, shooting down like a bullet. I pulled my wings in, landing with a roll and a crouch. My breath was hard and fast in my chest but the wide grin on my face betrayed what I really thought about the situation.

"Is it just me or was that totally amazing?" I asked loudly, knowing Catwoman heard me but wouldn't answer. I heard the slight creak of the floor behind me and I barely even had time to turn and duck the lethal woman's strong kick to my head. I rolled away from her and before I knew what I was doing, a Batarang was ready in my hand. Without a second's delay it went flying at my mentor. She dodged it easily, letting the sharp projectile bury itself in the wall behind her. She turned to look at me with a victorious grin.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Owlie. If you expect to catch me it's going to take more than a bad throw with some of Batsy's toys." I was surprised she didn't choke on the smugness in her voice was she stood up to her full height, towering above me by at least 6 inches (give me a break, she is wearing heels).

"I did," I replied simply with a little smirk of my own. The Batarang had begun to blink rapidly, cueing me to get the hell away. So I did, turning and rising into the air with the helpful flap of my wings. Catwoman seemed rooted to the spot in confusion until the Batarang exploded, sending her tumbling into the dusty and moth-eaten lobby furniture. Smoke filled the lobby but I had already risen high above it. I chose a sturdy looking pillar to hang onto, leaning over the lobby. Smoke curled upward as I hung on with one arm, covering my mouth and nose with the other. After a few seconds I dived down, gliding to a smooth stop in front Selina. She was sprawled over the arm of a sofa, obviously dazed but not apparently hurt in any other way.

I didn't wait too long before I tied her hands together behind her back with some of Batman's ultra-strong wire. She seemed to be gaining consciousness as I did so, giving a garbled greeting. I smiled, setting her up in a sitting position on the couch.

"Thanks for the lesson, I hate to bail on you now, but I've got some business to attend to."

"Impressive, Owlet. But you need to work on your stealth." Catwoman had finally come to full consciousness now, giving me a glare, a combination of being pissed and amused. It instantly reminded me of Dick, but after the incident in the car, I didn't want to think about him. I pushed the thoughts away, offering her a weak smile before making my way out of the building knowing she'd be out of the bonds within 5 minutes.

It didn't matter to me, though. I had succeeded in my little mission, now it was time to let the Mona part of me take reign of my body. Owlet had been dominating me the past week and a half, but in all theory she really had no right to. Without Mona there'd be no Owlet, and without Owlet, Fincher would be getting away with all the awful things he's been doing for 2 years. Because of Mona I now had Owlet, so I had to find a way to split the time equally between them.

And lately, I, Mona, had been thinking a lot about what Robin had said when we'd met in the Narrows. He'd told me my world was crashing down now because I was facing it. I wasn't pushing these feelings and emotions down anymore. Instead I was doing something about it, I was helping myself with Owlet, but the now famous Owl Girl couldn't solve all my problems. So, as a sheep dressed in a wolf's costume, I made my way to Gotham Cemetery, flying over the daunting city.

The flight to my parent's resting place was a rather long one and it took quite a toll on my physical self. After two long and hard days of training, my arms were sore, though my body seemed to be healing up. The bruises on my forehead and stomach had all but completely disappeared, along with the punctures on my ankle from the unfortunate Batarang incident. My various cuts were getting better but I could tell I'd have some scars, which was fine by me. Without scars you can't properly learn from the experience because if it hasn't taken a toll on you, then you won't remember the experience.

And at the moment experience was something I'd need a lot of. Gotham's heroes and villains had all been doing their own unique roles for a few years now. Even Boy Wonder had a few years on me, considering he appeared around my 8th or 9th birthday. And he was better at the flippy stuff than I was sure I'd ever be. If I wasn't a careful or quick learner, Gotham would've easily consumed me by now. But I'd been able to figure out that in order to survive in this city, you had to bring something new to the table and be able to hold your own. I liked to think I'd done that pretty well already.

My landing at the cemetery left much to be desired of my skills, seeing as I was descending my foot hit the top of the wrought iron gate entrance to the cemetery. It knocked me completely off balance while I was still in midair. I took a chance, tucking my arms in to cover my face. I dropped to the ground like a stone, landing in a particularly soft patch of dirt. I thought I was just really lucky until I looked up to see a brand new headstone.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, apologizing to the corpse's grave. "I didn't mean to, Mr…" I squinted at the grave marker in the moonlight. "Mr. Madison, loving grandfather. Rest in Peace." I got up, brushing the freshly turned dirt from my suit. With a final nod toward the grave, I crossed my arms over my chest and headed farther into the graveyard.

It was a cold night and though we were already halfway through winter and no snow had coated Gotham. I could see my breath in the quiet night as well as some shy flurries that were hesitant to fall, wondering if it was the right time to come down to Earth. I wished I'd brought some sort of jacket to shield myself from the brutal winter winds.

I finally got to the back corner of the cemetery, trooping off the sadly well beaten path to get to their graves. The permeating sense of cold found its way inside my heart as I neared those two fateful tombstones, standing tall in the night. A tight knot tied itself in my throat as my feet seemed to turn to lead with every step. Tears prickled in my eyes but I swallowed my sorrow, drawing my arms around myself. A violent shiver shook me, but I didn't know if I was cold or just sobbing. I wiped at the tears, trying and failing to get at them through my new cowl.

I stepped in front of their graves, lowering myself to the ground with my back facing their headstones. I didn't want to see their faded names now just barely etched into the stone, eroded away from the cheap headstone by the harsh seasons. I didn't want to see those matching epithets, loving mother and father. I didn't want to see their lifespans carved into those slabs of rock, mocking me, reminding me of the day I failed to save them and chose not to die with them.

"How are you guys?" I asked in a whisper. "I've been doing pretty well. Started at a new school, made a friend, and adopted an alter ego."

The wind whistled in the night, blowing the clouds away from the moon. Pale moonlight shined down on the dying grass and I could see where my footsteps had been, slowly disappearing as the grass bent back into shape. It was like the cemetery wanted to erase any evidence I'd ever been there in the first place. For a few minutes I just sat in silence with my knees pulled up to my chest, my arms wrapped around my legs. I propped my chin up on my knee, looking out at the village-like array of graves. It was both quaint and disturbing to me how it looked like a town for dead loved ones.

I had no idea how long I sat there, softly talking to the memories of my parents, imagining how they'd respond. I my head they were immensely proud of me, but concerned because of all my injuries. I could practically picture my mom looking at me with sympathetic eyes, telling me I should be more careful. My dad would be ecstatic about the way the suit was working and he would want to examine the cowl and utility belt Batman had given me. I smiled, just happy to imagine them now, and for a while it was enough. And then my night got a bit too interesting for my taste.

It was as if I could sense his presence, one second I'm alone, the next thing I know I can see his shadow towering in front of me. In an instant I was on my feet, facing Boy Wonder. I fought the urge to wipe away the trails my tears had made on my face. It would've made me look weaker in the eyes of Robin, and that was the last thing I needed. He stood, poised and ready, with a Birdarang held lightly but lithely between his thumb and pointer finger. He gave me a nice authentic glare from under his mask, one I easily returned.

"Don't do this," I warned Robin, scowling at him through my cowl. "I'm on your side, remember?"

"No, Batman is on your side. I'm not giving you a shred of my trust." Robin gripped the Birdarang tighter. At this distance and with his aim, that Birdarang was deadly.

"Go away. I'm here for my own reasons." My voice was hard and angry. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment and fury. I didn't want to explain why Owlet was at the Gotham Cemetery. I didn't want to talk to Robin about why Owlet had been crying. Any explanation at all would be too compromising, and I wasn't about to give up this whole game because of a midnight meeting with Gotham's golden boy. "I'm not doing anything illegal."

"You have before."

"Fincher deserved it."

"It's not your job to take control of the law," he retorted, his hand shaking with anger or concentration, I didn't know which.

"You're on to talk. You aren't a policeman, neither is Batman. You two are taking the law into your own hands."

"We stop villains!" His voice raised in the night, not quite shouting, but definitely not normal conversational volume.

"You keep me from stopping a villain. Fincher needs to be put away! If I had my way, he'd be killed." My voice was soft and deadly with disgust and surprise. I'd never admitted to wanting Fincher dead before, mentally or verbally.

"That's not the hero way to do it," Robin commented coldly.

"I'm not the same kind of hero like you, Robin."

"Then what kind of a hero are you?" Boy Wonder questioned. I wasn't quite sure, but I could've sworn there was a curious edge to his voice.

I had to think about it for a few moments before quietly replying "I'm purely an anti-hero. I don't want to bring pain to others, I want to bring satisfaction to myself." I could almost hear Robin's smirk in the dark night.

"You don't belong here."

"You think I don't know that?"

"It sure as hell doesn't explain why you're still here."

"Where am I supposed to go, Batboy? Please, tell me."

"Take off the mask, go home. Be a normal kid. It's not that hard." I was odd to hear him talking to me with a lighter tone. Owlet wasn't used to it, but it was something Mona was familiar with.

"It is hard when you've never been normal to begin with." I tried to keep the sadness from my voice, but it was nearly impossible to disguise.

"It's never too late to try." The hardness was back in his voice, the warning was obvious to hear.

"For people like you and me it is, Robin. Trust me." I walked up to Robin until we were face to face, standing between my parent's graves. "I'm not going anywhere, so get over it."

"Don't talk to me like that." His voice was calm but I could see his jaw tense up.

"Don't treat me like a thug," I snarled.

"Then don't parade around as one!" he shouted back.

That was about the time I gave him a good punch to the face. He wasn't expecting the hit so I easily landed it on the left side of his face. It wasn't the hardest punch in the world, but it was strong enough to show that Owlet meant business.

Robin stumbled back, holding his cheek while gaping at me. I smirked as I could see the gears turned in his head as he tried to formulate a good response. He was a hero, it's not like he was going to hit a girl. Well, actually I wasn't too positive about that. At the concert he was ready to let Scarecrow kill me, and only moments before he was ready to throw a freaking projectile at me. You know, on second thought, I didn't even know who this guy was. Where did the sweet Robin go? The one who talked to Mona? Did he really hate Owlet so much that he'd let her die?

I was starting to feel a little un-safe around Boy Blunder, slowly backing away as he glared. This kid gave a whole new meaning to "if looks could kill." I supposed I shouldn't be surprised, his mentor was the Batman after all, well known for his famous Batglare. I guess Robin had been on the receiving end of it too many times and he'd decided to use its powers for his own gain. The only really bad part about that was A) He was really good at it and B) He was aiming it at me.

But just as our little "innocent" Boy Wonder was about to bore a hole through my skull using only his eyes, the loud sound of metal being snapped permeated the air. I immediately turned to look behind me. The gates of the cemetery had been pulled open and a large group of burly looking guys filed in. I was too far to make out any specific characteristics but I could see they all carried tools and I knew this was bad news.

Fortunately Robin seemed to have his wits about him. He dove down to the ground, pulling me down with him by a hard yank on my suit. We waited behind a thin headstone, forcing us to huddle closer to stay hidden. I wasn't sure but I thought I heard Robin give a barely audible scoff at the situation, us pushed together, belly down in the prickly grass that was stabbing me through the material of my suit. I didn't even think about complaining. Robin was still breathing hard but he had now busied himself with his utility belt, pulling out something that looked like an ear bud with the wire cut off. He inserted it into his ear and (none too gently) pushed a button hidden on my cowl. Within seconds I could hear the group's raucous laughter, some of them obviously drunk by the slurred words they attempted to speak. They were all headed towards the extremely rich part of the graveyard, the section of the cemetery where all the little Gotham socialites wanted to go when they died.

"Grave robbers," I muttered. Robin nodded, answering me without speaking. It was blatantly obvious he was thinking of a plan to take them down. "Don't cut me out of this, Batboy. There's at least 7 of them, you can't take them all by yourself."

"Don't remind me," he growled. His voice was barely over a whisper but I heard it loud and clear in my ear. A look of shock must've crossed my face because Robin gave a scoffing sigh. "There's a comms unit built into your cowl. We're on the same frequency."

"Oh, right…" I gave a nervous laugh, feeling a blush creep up on my cheeks from my foolishness. How in the world was I supposed to know that? It's not like I got an instruction manual with this thing.

"Here's the plan," Robin said abruptly. I could see a vein pulsing on the side of his face. It was glaringly obvious e was fighting his instinct to handcuff or throttle me (I'm sure the latter would've been more enjoyable to him). "We'll keep in contact through the comms unit and come at them from opposite sides and wait until they get to their goal, then we'll attack. Try to keep at least one conscious, the police will need someone to interrogate. We can tie them up then give the GCPD a hint about them. Understand?"

"I'm not a 4 year old, I get it, Robin," I said crossly. He didn't answer besides flitting off into the shadows, suddenly invisible in the night. I went the opposite direction, creeping into the dark, closing in on the grave robbers.

The grave robbers were all high school age, mostly seniors with a few juniors and a single scrawny sophomore. They must've been on the public high school's football team because they were (for the most part) very largely built with broad shoulders and giant muscles. My attention was pulled to a brawny brunette as he laughed at some joke his comrades had told him, he was wearing a letterman's jacket, further proving the whole football thing. I could see there were actually 9, compared to the 7 I had initially thought there were. Robin was skilled and talented, but even I doubted his odds against all of them.

"Are you ready?" His voice was suddenly in my ear, causing me to jump. His inflection towards Owlet wasn't entirely hostile this time. It almost sounded like he was talking to Mona.

"Whenever you are," I replied airily, crouched and tensed.

"When I give the signal, we go." I nodded before I realized Robin couldn't see me. With an eye roll to myself I answered him in the affirmative.

"Wait," I asked as a fresh thought occurred to me. The group of high schoolers had all gathered around a tall mausoleum, ready with their crowbars and bags. "What's the signal?"

Apparently Boy Blunder didn't really believe teamwork because as I asked my completely rational and necessary question, he jumped out at the group, smoke bombs and Birdarangs flying. He gave a devious laugh, somersaulting into the midst of them smoke. Soon he began to take out a few guys. I quickly decided this was, in fact, the signal. I leapt into the fight, tackling a lanky junior who'd been running at Robin from behind. He yelped as I took him by surprise, quickly tumbling to the ground. He tried to fight back, punching at me with feeble and unprepared fists. I gave him a devious smirk, punching him in the face. It was gratifying to see him go unconscious. So much in my life was hectic and uncontrollable, but I was able to take the reins back for myself, and it felt good.

I looked up from the unconscious junior, seeing that the smoke had cleared quite a bit. There were already 3 teens on the ground, all knocked out. At the moment Robin was fighting with an extremely muscular senior. He was big and brutish and had at least 40 pounds and 6 inches over Robin. Another senior joined in on the fight, but brought something else to the scuffle. He gave a victorious yell as he charged closer to Robin with a long switch blade clutched in his meaty hand.

"Batboy, look out!" I yelled, running at the approaching senior. Robin didn't even turned to look at me though by his grimace I could tell he had heard me. The senior he'd been fighting with wasn't quite being cooperative, and since he'd had such a big margin on Robin anyway, the Boy Wonder couldn't fight two people at once.

I didn't realize what my body was doing until I had tackled the knife wielding hooligan. It was like hitting a fleshy brick wall headfirst, my small frame barely pushed the taller teen out of the way, but it was enough to save Robin a knife in his side. The senior and I crashed into a tall marble headstone, the edge catching my left shoulder as I rammed into it. I landed on top of the creep, both of us giving a highly audible "OOMPH!" as the air rushed from our lungs. The boy responded a lot quicker though, jabbing the knife into my thigh. A pained and outraged scream forced its way from my chest as I gave the older boy a hard punch to the throat. He floundered for a moment, choking as I swiftly hobbled to my feet, using the nearby headstone to brace myself. Using my uninjured leg I gave him a kick to the groin before finishing him off with a hard stomp to the face. He was unconscious in seconds, his mouth and nose slowly oozing blood.

Robin had overpowered his foe and was methodically working on taking out another 2. They were both relatively smaller than his previous attacker, leading me to believe they were juniors. I knew he'd easily overpower them sooner or later. My attention turned to the final sophomore who had gone white in fear seeing all the upperclassmen get taken out with such ease. I could see the gears turning in his head as he started to back up, then ran. A groan escaped me, one of both pain and annoyance. There was no way I could chase him, but I couldn't let him get away. My hand flew to my utility belt and I hoped that I had the right gadget as I threw it at the cowardly boy with practiced precision.

I'd been hoping for something that would tie him up, but I'd pulled a regular old Batarang. And, to add to my insult, my aim had been too low sine the kid was running. But just as I was about to give up all hope and admit my lesser skill level and general know-how to Boy Wonder, the Batarang caught the too long edge of the boy's sweatpants, pinning him to the soft ground. He tumbled forward with a quick yelp, face planting in the dirt of the well beaten foot path. I allowed myself a small grin at the victory as a strong wave of pain washed over me. Suddenly all of my senses went into overload; I saw white, I heard silence, and I felt nothing until the pain subsided a bit, enough to bring me back to full consciousness yet still keep me in complete agony. I gritted my teeth as I lowered myself to the ground keeping my right leg ramrod straight. The area around the knife's hilt was black in the dim moonlight, slowly spreading out as the moments passed by.

It seemed like hours had passed before Robin defeated the two teens though I knew it must've only been a few minutes. He left one of them conscious, apparently noticing I'd inadvertently knocked out the sophomore by making him practically eat the ground. The Boy Wonder quickly gagged the single perpetrator still awake, throwing him down next to some of his other cronies. The teen began to struggle and yell against his bonds but a glare from Robin shut him up almost immediately. In a second Robin was by my side, his hands gingerly on my shoulders as he lowered me into a laying position. I tried not to wince as he squeezed the spot where I'd rammed into the headstone.

"Stay still," he said quietly, ripping the edge off his cape and wrapping it around the knife as a makeshift dressing for the wound. Before I really knew what he was doing, Robin scooted me closer to a headstone, propping my feet up so that the wound was elevated above my heart.

"Wha-what are you doing?" I asked woozily as he worked.

"I'm helping you." My heart clenched as I heard those words, not because I was happy he was saying that to Owlet, but because I was hurt that he said them through gritted teeth. He slipped something out of his utility belt, handing it to me. "Swallow this."

It was a little white pill. I took it but gave him a suspicious look. "What is this for?"

"The pain. Unless you want to pass out," he added crossly as if annoyed I would've double guessed his offer of help. I swallowed the pill warily, hoping that giving my trust to Boy Wonder in my current state was a good idea.

I looked at my leg, wincing as I saw the hilt sticking out from my right thigh and the leg of my suit covered in blood. I tried to calm myself with a deep breath, closing my eyes then opening them to look up at the mostly cloudy sky. The moon hid behind a cloud, making the edges look white in the indigo sky. "Can't you just take it out?" I asked, pain making my voice sound pitiful.

"It'll make it bled more," Robin replied slowly.

"Please?" I looked up at him, pleading with that one word. Robin looked conflicted as he reached for the knife, jaw set decisively. I looked away as he yanked it out, my blood and muscle making a stomach wrenching wet sound. I hissed in pain, tears beginning to stream down the sides of my face under my cowl. Robin quickly used more of his cape to soak up the blood then searched in his utility belt for something else. My breath caught in my throat as he pulled out a needle and thick black thread.

"Do you know how to do that?" I asked, hysterics creeping into my voice.

"Yes," he answered calmly. "The pill I gave you also works as an anti-biotic, so you shouldn't have to worry about getting an infection unless you're really dumb." He threaded the needle casually as if h was used to sewing up people's injuries. I forced myself to look away as he opened the hole in my suit a little bit more then began to insert the stitches.

The painkiller didn't quite work 100% but I was sure without it I would've been a complete and total mess. As much as I could I ignored the pinching of the needle as well as the pull of the thread, telling myself that Robin was a professional in this line of work, that he knew what he was doing, that the only other person who'd be better suited for this job would be Batman himself. The thoughts helped me calm down a little, but I was still on edge. I'm sure anyone else would be too. When was the last time you had a teenager give you stitches in the middle of the night at a cemetery? Never? Me neither.

Robin finished in at least 10 minutes, tying off the last stitch securely so the stitches wouldn't come out. "That's really heavy duty thread so the stitches shouldn't tear, unless, of course, you do something stupid, in which case the whole wound will probably have to be reclosed."

"You don't have to try so hard to fish for compliments, Batboy. I'm sure your sewing skills could battle those of actually trained doctors," I replied but my spirit wasn't quite in the retort. Robin sensed this because he actually helped me up, with my arm around his neck and his around my waist, hobbling to the open gates of the grave yard. As we walked he pulled a communicator from his utility belt (which apparently had everything in it), pressing a single button.

"Batman, this is Robin. There was a group of grave robbers apprehended at Gotham Cemetery. One is conscious for interrogation for the Police." I was amazed how Robin made this occurrence sound so normal, like he did this on a daily basis. I mentally face palmed myself when I realized he did do this on a daily basis.

"Any injuries?" Batman asked gruffly, the static-y connection of the communicator making him sound even more grumbly than usual.

"Only one, stab wound to the leg," Robin reported.

"How bad is it, do you need help?" It surprised me how quickly Batman's tone changed to immediate concern.

"It wasn't my leg," he said quietly. "It was Owlet's. I got her some help."

"Good. Take her down to the hospital and-"

"No way," I said, the painkillers making my speech slightly slurred. "Just drop me off in the Narrows."

"Your leg is-" Batman started.

"All sewn up. Everything is handy-dandy here, just call the GCPD and have a good night, Dark Knight," I interrupted, reaching over and closing the communicator.

"What was that for?" Robin asked crossly, tightening his grip around my waist as we descended a steep hill.

"I can't go to the hospital, Boy Wonder. They'll make me tell my identity and Fincher will get away with everything!" My voice was comically playful as I explained the situation to Robin as if he were 6.

"What if you die?" He questioned simply.

"Then I'll get to see my family again." I smiled, letting the pain-killer take full control of my body. "Anyone you want me to say hi to when I get there?"

Robin shook his head and sighed as we finally reached a bright red motorcycle hidden in the trees in front of the cemetery. He helped me on then offered a helmet. "Think you can hold on?"

"I can try," I responded, grabbing a hold of him around his stomach. He revved the engine then, with a burst of speed, let the darkness swallow us up on our way to the Narrows.


	10. Downtime

AN: So I realized that I lied again, this isn't the last chapter of part one. There will actually be at least one other chapter to part one after this one. In case anyone is really curious, between part one and part two there is a rather long time skip of two weeks which will let our fair characters stew in the big events that will happen at the end of the first half of the story. Interested? I hope so. This chapter is one is a long time that barely has any Owlet in it. I wanted to make sure that people weren't just waiting for all the action parts with Owlet, that they were actually caring for Mona as a character as well (an idea that I borrowed from Batman Begins). Don't forget to review or PM me anything that you want to see in Owlet. Like I said earlier, whether or not I can fit it in, I will still write it and still post it. That's all I have to say, please read and review, thanks guys :D Oh and, if you think that I own Batman, you must be, well, let's just say you're something I can't say online because it'd be a bit rude.

Downtime

For a teenage boy on a motorcycle, Robin was a pretty good driver, though a bit of a show off. He'd take sharp turns, jump over things we could've gone around, and speed between cars, just because he could. More than once I actually had to squeeze my eyes closed to save my brain a headache and try to keep my dinner down. I buried my face in Robin's shoulder, holding onto him with a stronger grip. I was dismally reminded I was Owlet as Robin tensed up quite a bit, his muscles becoming rigid and uncomfortable. I sighed inwardly, not in the mood to fight because of the painkiller's way of sapping my energy. For a moment I wished that Robin knew who I actually was, that Owlet and Mona were the same people. I wanted him to comfort me and tell me that it was okay even though it most obviously wasn't. Most of all, though, I wanted him to not be Dick. It didn't seem fair that my best friend would be Boy Wonder and never give me a hint.

"_He's not supposed to, Ryder. Secret identity sound familiar?_" I sung in my head. I had to hold back a scream as Robin turned with such force that the cycle was almost parallel to the ground. "Are you trying to get us killed?" I asked him out loud, attempting to keep my voice from shrieking.

"Live a little, Owlet. It's just a bike ride!" he cackled back, taking a detour down an alley by using stacked up crates as a ramp, flying over a tall barbed wire and chain link fence. We hit the ground roughly, Robin losing control of the bike for a few moments as it twisted right and left. Soon enough, though, it was back on track, for better or for worse.

"Oh yeah," I said weakly, ready to hurl the small dinner I had eaten hours ago. "This is just a casual bike ride where Boy Wonder is trying to kill me."

"If I wanted to kill you I would've done this." Robin's tone was smug as he sped up to at least 70 on an abandoned road by the piers at Gotham Bay. Fear built up inside me as he drove straight for a pothole, letting it bounce the bike high into the air. I screamed as my butt left the seat, floating what seemed like a whole foot above it before slamming back down. If I hadn't had such a death grip on Robin, I could guarantee I'd be in the dark and dangerous waters of Gotham Bay. Robin gave a loud, harsh laugh to the point where I didn't know if it was a joke or if he really wanted me dead. After that I decided to shut up for the rest of the ride, knowing my mouth would only get me into more trouble.

The remainder of the ride was relatively silent with an occasional comment from Robin about what super-criminal he'd caught at this place, or what helpless child he'd save here. I didn't speak until we drove down the street I had met Robin on as Mona. In a quiet voice I asked "Do anything here?"

And, surprisingly, he answered. "I met a girl here once," was all he said.

"Who was she?" I pressed, wondering what he'd say about me.

"Just another Gotham nobody," he replied. Cold gripped my heart and I scowled to myself. Of course, Mona was nobody to a big time superhero like Robin, the Boy Wonder. Mona was nobody to everyone, why should it be any different with Robin? Because who'd really need a parentless 15 year old kid? That's why Owlet was so precious to me. People would need her, need me, as Owlet to save themselves from their stupidity and insolence regarding the newer and less obvious villains of Gotham.

"Let me off here," I demanded as Robin neared the orphanage, about a block away from where he'd met Mona. The walk back to the orphanage was only a few blocks, and as long as I didn't meet anyone along the way I'd be fine.

"Are you sure?" he asked. I could tell his hero instinct was kicking in because the boy actually sounded worried, about Owlet.

"I'll be fine, Batboy," I grumbled, getting off the motorcycle and giving the helmet back to him. "Thanks for the ride." I walked to the shadows of the building, using the walls and edifices to support me as I walked. My right leg was killing me.

Robin just watched me from his bike and as I turned to glare he had some sort of bewildered look on his face. "If you follow me home, I'll rip your mask off and make you eat it, Boy Wonder."

"Do you want a walking stick or something?" he blurted, immediately looking like he wanted to kick himself.

"Those seem to be in short supply when you're on a motorcycle in the Narrows in the middle of the night," I scoffed, still hobbling along, using the wall as my crutch.

"Here." I heard Robin kick out a stand on his bike, running up behind me. I tensed before I could help it, flinching as he got nearer. "Use this." He held out a pole about 6 inches long.

"I'm not that vertically challenged, Wonder Boy," I said with tired annoyance in my voice. I hadn't meant to switch Boy and Wonder in his usual epithet but the new name had a nice ring to it.

"Amateur," he sighed, pressing a button on the side that must've released some sort of shaft inside the actual tube. It quickly expanded to a staff about 6 feet tall. "It's a collapsible bo staff. I want it back later."

I took it with a tentative grip, surprised he wasn't trying to smack me in the head with it or something. "Uh… thanks again, I guess. Why are you being, well, not quite nice, but… less hostile?"

He looked like he wanted to just leave without answering but he put on a tough face, his hand clenching into a loose fist. "You could've bailed on me anytime at the cemetery, but you didn't, even after how shitty I've been to you. I'm willing to accept the fact that Bats trusts you, but I'm not 100% about you and I'm not sure I ever will be. However, I am willing to make a truce in light of our alliance."

It might've been because it was late or because the painkiller had jumbled my brains, but the most I got out of Robin's formally worded explanation was "Thanks for backing me up, you're not too awful, I still don't trust you." And even though that might've been the extremely dumbed-down version, my drugged-up, pain-filled, barely-conscious self took this as a very massive personal victory.

"Awww! You don't hate me anymore!" I cheered with forced enthusiasm. "You have no idea how much that means to me, Robin, especially since I know how much that must've bruised your ego."

"Sarcasm will get you nowhere, newb. Leave me alone. I have to get some rest before tomorrow." He glared at me, but almost in a friendly way (if that makes any sense, being drugged-up makes your mind much simpler in terms of well, everything).

"But crime never sleeps!" I exclaimed.

"Which is why my name is Robin and not crime," he answered cheekily, getting back onto the motorcycle. "Don't lose my bo staff," he ordered, zooming away before I could even formulate a suitable goodbye.

"Boys," I sighed, hobbling the rest of the way to the orphanage.

* * *

><p>By the time I woke up the next morning, my body just somehow knew I was way late. I was about to jump out of bed like some surprised cartoon character when the pain in my leg hit me like a brick wall.<p>

"Owww," I moaned, pulling my sleep shorts up a little to look at the ugly wound. The skin around the cut was a deep purple, almost pure black. The cut itself was enough to make me shudder in repulsion. It was about 3 and a half inches long and I knew it was deep though all I could see was my blood dried into the black thread of the stitches.

"Ew," was all I said, looking at my bedside clock. "Holy insert-appropriate-euphemism here, it's already 9:30?" And indeed it was. I got up, bracing myself against the wall, slipping into a pair of ragged sweatpants on over the pair of shorts, limping pathetically to the door. I walked through the hall to the door. I walked through the hall to the rec room. It was half-full with kids playing lame video games from the 80s and using the broken foosball table in the corner. A broody looking 12 year old stood nearest to me so I headed over to him to find out what was going on.

"Why isn't everyone at school?" I asked. "It's Friday, right?"

He looked at me with analytical eyes. "You look like shit," he commented.

"Gee, thanks. Glad to see chivalry isn't dead. Now answer my question," I growled.

"Jeez, chill. Some of the schools shut down because of the deaths from that concert thing with Scarecrow." He took a better look at me. "Hey, weren't you there that night?"

"None of your business, kid," I said defensively, limping to the kitchen. _So school was out_, I thought with a slight grin. _There must be a god up there._ I had absolutely no idea how I'd hide the stitches from Dick while wearing a skirt, for goodness's sake. The kitchen was thankfully empty so I was able to rummage through the refrigerator without interruption. I pulled out an egg salad sandwich that appeared to still be goo and untouched, making it the perfect candidate for my breakfast. I unwrapped it half-way from its plastic wrap, taking a bit and making a face. The sandwich tasted like egg-flavored cardboard, but it was edible so I continued to eat.

I finished my breakfast relatively quickly, returning to my room and locking the door as got the owl suit out. It was in pretty bad shape. The whole right leg was almost covered in blood with a jagged gaping hole at the thigh. I'd patched up the suit once before after I'd accidentally cut myself while slashing Fincher's tires. The area I'd sewed up looked pretty much like a straight line. I could tell it wasn't going to be like that at all this time. But I only sighed, getting to work so I'd get done faster. If I wanted to accomplish my plans for the future the suit would have to be wearable.

My work was over within the hour, and I'll admit, it wasn't the prettiest thing ever sewed, kind of like my leg. However if it'd have to do for now, there was no way I'd go through the final phase of my plan without the suit. I ran it over in my head once more, knowing it was insane but excited for it despite the danger.

"You're not right in the head, Ryder," I muttered, tucking the owl suit under my shirt so I could go through the bathroom without it being seen. I turned to faucet onto warm water and slowly started to rinse the blood from the suit. I looked into the mirror as I worked, seeing dark bags under my eyes and slight traces of bruises along my face and arms. I pulled down the neck of my ragged t-shirt to show my bruised-black left shoulder. Compared to what I'd been through before I didn't really think much of the new wound. It would sting and be sore, but at least it wouldn't kill me. The scratch on my cheek didn't look much different from the day before, only a bit more crusted with brownish blood. I sighed to myself, fatigue creeping into my bones.

"I may not be right in the head," I replied to myself, turning off the faucet and wringing out the suit. "But my head is in the right place." With a little smile I tucked the bundle of wet fabric under my shirt once more, heading back to my room. My timing was horribly off though as another girl came careening down the hall at the same time, smacking her gum loudly and looking at me suspiciously.

"What're you hiding under your shirt?" she asked, crossing her arms and blocking my path.

"None of your business," I told her coolly, trying to sneak past her on the right.

She grabbed my injured shoulder with a vice-like grip, pushing me against the wall. My hands were full with the suit so I couldn't fight back, even as my thigh was slammed into the wall. "What secret have you got, Ryder?" She looked victorious, squeezing my shoulder, knowing that it hurt me. "What have you got in your hands?"

I glared up at the girl, analyzing her with my yellow-brown eyes. She was at least 16, maybe 17 and about 4 inches taller than me. If I dropped the suit I could've easily taken her down, assuming she was untrained. But I was so close to beating Fincher I couldn't let a stupid kid at the orphanage ruin it all for me. I smirked at her as my response came smugly.

"Let's just say during my time of the month some of my undergarments came out a little worse for wear. You want proof?" I acted as if I were pulling the bundle from under my shirt.

"Ew!" the girl squealed. "Sicko!" She let go of my shoulder, shuddering as she made her way back down the hall. I laughed to myself, taking refuge back into my room.

"That was far too close," I commented under my breath with a matching scowl. I locked my door and took out an oversized sweatshirt, laying it flat on my bed. I took the wet owl suit, rolling t up in the sweater, hoping to squeeze the water out to make it dry faster. It might've been easier to throw it into the dryer, but when you had a secret identity to protect, convenience was never really an option.

The soft sound of talking pervaded the still air of my room and caused my head to shoot up at the slight noise. To a normal person it would've been completely unheard, but I prided myself on being an extremely out of the ordinary person. With careful ears I listened again, finding that it was coming from my suitcase. I was there as fast as my leg let me, sorting through my clothes to find my cowl at the bottom under layers of sweaters and pants. Someone was trying to communicate with me through the comms unit in my cowl. Checking the locked door behind me, I slipped the cowl onto my head, becoming Owlet with pajamas on.

"What do you want?" I asked more sharply than I'd intended.

"Geez, snippy much?" Boy Wonder asked.

"Shouldn't you be in school, Batboy?" I replied, putting my clothes neatly back into the suitcase.

"It was cancelled today. I'm sure you're familiar with the news of the passing of Lewis Malton and Rosie Teller?" His voice was a bit clipped as he responded.

"I'm out as well. Funny, maybe we go to the same school, Rob." Immediately my mind flashed to Dick, sitting beside me in Modern History, a smug, devil-may-care grin on his face. I shook the image from my head, praying to God there was no way they were the same person. If they were, Mona only had one friend in Gotham and that's almost as scary as being completely alone in the treacherous city itself.

"Doubt it; they don't let riff-raff into my school." His cold exterior seemed to melt as he spoke making the sentence sound like a joke rather than an actual insult.

"You're a laugh, Boy Blunder." I rolled my eyes. "Now why did you call, er, whatever this is considered?"

"I wanted my bo staff back."

"So?" I said airily. "How am I supposed to get it back to you when we only ever meet by coincidence?"

"Go on patrol or whatever you do out at night, maybe?"

"Pshh, I don't patrol. I wouldn't dare take Batman's thunder. He'd probably do something unspeakably horrible to me."

"Don't be stupid; just meet me where I dropped you off last night. At midnight."

"Boy Wonder, are you asking me on a date!" I laughed at the idea. Robin didn't like either sides of me. He thought Mona was a nobody and that Owlet was a delinquent-ally.

"I just want my bo staff back, amateur," he said sourly.

"You're just angry 'cuz there's no embarrassing nicknames for Owlet," I laughed. "Whereas I have so many choices."

"Are you going to be there?" he pressed, ignoring my last comment.

"Maybe," I said idly. "Maybe not."

"Don't play games, Owlet. I'll see you at midnight." I could hear his comms unit go offline as if he'd hung up on me.

"'Don't play games, Owlet'," I mocked, slipping the cowl off, tucking it lovingly away amongst the t-shirts and socks I kept in my suitcase. "Don't patronize me, Robin."

* * *

><p>Since midnight was a long ways away, I decided to actually get dressed and make something of my day. Doing homework was absurdly out of the question. There was no way I could focus on mitosis for Biology or translating an entire novel into Spanish using only my brain and a pencil (and no, I wasn't supposed to jab the pencil into my brain to save me some trouble). I played with the idea of coexisting with my fellow orphans, but that idea was out ruled pretty quickly as well. To my peers at the orphanage, I was an outcast, a weirdo. I thought about visiting with Selina but she'd be at work all day, doing whatever she does to bring cat food money home. That left me once choice: take a walk around the Narrows and hope you don't get jumped.<p>

I thought about bring my utility belt with me, but I didn't want to run the risk of getting caught with it. That would be one helluva jam I didn't want to explain myself out of. I got dressed, taking extra care while slipping on my jeans. They pressed uncomfortably against the stitches but I gritted my teeth, doing my best to ignore the pain. Tried to dress as un-attention grabbing as possible; plain blue jeans, a simple grey V-neck, a black military style jacket, and a really ratty pair of Converse high-tops that looked like they weren't having a particularly good day. I left my room with a wary glance at my suitcase that held my biggest secret before closing the door, heading to the kitchen. I took about a handful of ibuprofen with half a glass of water, hoping the pills would numb the sore pain in my muscles and the uncomfortable pull of the stitches in my line.

Nobody gave me a second glance as I stole my way out of the front door. It felt odd not sneaking through the window at the end of the hall, but I knew with my stitches that'd be pretty hard to do, close to impossible in fact. I resolved that Owlet would have to start using the front door, making my way down the front steps. It was hard to walk normally with my leg, but after a few minutes I fell into a slightly comfortable gait that didn't make me look too injured. Actually, I practically looked normal. If I hadn't been so preoccupied with how I was walking, I might've had to time react to the person coming straight at me from around a corner. We both seemed to have been unfocused on the art of paying attention while walking because we rammed into one another. He stumbled a step or two but due to my weakened condition paired with my naturally unstable balance, I started to fall backwards. His hands were around my waist in an instant, keeping me from hitting the ground. I got over the initial shock long enough to notice who had caught me.

"Fancy seeing you here, Dick," I breathed, still a bit short of breath from being caught by surprise (in two senses of the phrase).

"I was just on my way to see you," he stammered, apparently not expecting to meet me along the way. He looked slightly disconcerted as he held me, head bent down a bit so I could see the expression on his face.

"Why?" I asked, reaching my arms up around his neck so I could steady myself into a standing position. Dick flushed a light pink.

"Just wanted to see if you wanted to do something." He gave a short little nervous laugh as he helped me stand. I cocked an eyebrow as he responded. This didn't seem like the cool, calm, and well, _concerted_ Dick Grayson I'd come to know at school.

"Sounds like fun," I said slowly, wondering where he was going with this. I hoped he didn't expect me to come and study with him. There was only so much Batman and Robin I could take in a short amount of time, especially when Boy Wonder was being so perplexing to Owlet. "What did you have in mind?"

My answer seemed to calm him a bit, thought it was extremely noticeable. His face took on a more silently-assertive confident look and his tensed shoulder returned to normal level. "I was thinking we could grab lunch and just talk. All we ever seem to talk about it recent events and the Dynamic Duo. I feel like I don't even really know you."

I was so touched by the offer I didn't even question why Dick wanted to know more about me. I just gave a shy grin. "I'd like that."

And that's how I ended up at a semi-popular pizza joint downtown with Dick Grayson, being led to a table by an overtired looking waiter. Once we'd sat down he got out his little pen pad, sighing as he asked "What can I get you to drink?"

"A couple of waters will be fine," Dick said, looking to me for an approving nod. The bored waiter took it down, handing us two menus. For a few minutes it was completely silent, and awkwardly so, the two of us just sitting there with our faces hiding behind our menus.

"So…" I said, breaking the ice and the silence with the single drawn out word. Dick gave a short laugh.

"Well, aren't we talkative?" He set down his menu, now leaning back in his booth.

"Here, let's try this again." I closed my eyes, over dramatically exhaling my breath. I was rewarded with a slight chuckle from Dick. I opened them again to see a bemused expression on his face. "Hi! My name is Mona. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you as well, Mona. My name is Richard, but I go by Dick." He played along with a grin on his face.

"So where are you from, Dick?" I asked conversationally, saying the first thing that popped into my head.

"Originally I'm from Romania," he answered earnestly. I cocked an eyebrow.

"Really? I didn't know that."

"You never asked, and it's not one of those random things you tell people." Dick rolled his eyes.

"So, can you, like, speak Romanian?" For a moment my voice slipped into a tone that would've been worthy of the label "blonde".

"It's my first language," he replied with a smirk.

"Say something, then," I challenged.

"Ce ai vrea să spun, Mona?" he said in a heartbeat. The only word I understood was my name.

"You didn't just insult me, did you?" My voice took on a suspicious tone.

Dick laughed. "No, I just said 'What do you want me to say, Mona?' Innocuous enough for you?"

"Hey, don't judge. I only know English and a bit of Spanish." I glared at him half-heartedly.

"Ok, let's hear some." For a moment I thought he meant hear some English. I mentally face palmed myself, but was glad I didn't ask for clarification on which language.

"Fine." I bit my lip, thinking of a good response, smiling to myself and finally setting on "El burro sabe mas que tú."

"Meaning?"

"The donkey knows more than you." My grin grew wider as he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

"How mature."

"It was the first thing that came to my head."

"At least now we have a glimpse of what dwells in the inner workings of Mona Ryder's skull."

"You make my brain sound like some dark and intimidating cavern, Grayson."

"Isn't that what it is, though?" He gave an evil grin as I swatted him with my menu.

"Funny, let's hurry up and figure out what we're going to order already." I scowled while he laughed some more. The comment struck me more than he knew, because on some levels, that's almost exactly what my mind was like.

"Ok, ok, fine. How does a supreme sound?"

"What all does it have?"

"Pepperoni, sausage, bell peppers, mushrooms-"

"Ew, no," I interrupted him, making a face.

"What, you don't like mushrooms?"

"No, I'm a vegetarian, Grayson."

"Seriously?" He looked genuinely surprised.

"Yes, seriously."

"For how long?"

"I started when I was about 7."

"What kind of vegetarian?"

"I'm what you'd call a pescetarian. I eat fish and eggs but not red meat or poultry."

"Did you become a vegetarian for health reasons or did your parents make you?"

"Neither. It was for my own moral reasons." Dick looked impressed.

"You don't meet a lot of vegetarians," he stated.

"Especially not in such an American stereotypical city as Gotham." I rolled my eyes, confirming the fact.

"See, we're learning all kinds of new things today and we're not even in school. My favorite color is blue. What's yours?"

"Orange. Favorite holiday meal? Mine used to be tamales on Christmas Eve."

"Alfred makes a kick-ass turkey for Thanksgiving. And why tamales?"

"My mother grew up in Western Texas and the traditional Mexican meal was to have tamales on Christmas Eve so the kids would actually have something to unwrap."

Dick's expression was a priceless, a mix of horror and amusement and confusion all rolled into one.

"That's awful and hilarious all at once," Dick said, cracking a grin.

"And my parents never understood why I found it so funny." I shook my head.

"Ok, back on topic. What are we going to get for lunch?" He looked at me as if ordering this pizza were serious business.

"I usually just get cheese, but if you want other toppings I'm open. You know, as long as it isn't heaping piles of Canadian bacon or anything."

In the end we kept it simple, a cheese pizza to go with our waters. But it was more than enough, for me at least. The simple stuff was so hard to come by these days when I had so many complications in my life. There were complications with school, complications with friends (of the lack thereof), and mostly, complications with my personal life, especially with Dick and Robin and Owlet. I longed for mundane moments like this one where I could let all my stress melt away in this cushy pizza booth but I knew that now that I'd chosen my life as Owlet, those simple and easy moments would become harder and harder to come by. I let a sad smile form on my face as I nodded at something Dick had said, not really listening to what he was telling me.

"So," he started abruptly, taking a drink of water. His forceful sentence opener jolted me from my thoughts. "See Boy Wonder lately?"

I almost choked on the slice of pizza I'd been eating, forcing myself to set it down and swallow. "Not that I recall. What, do you have some preoccupation with him?" I gave Dick and evil smirk.

Dick scoffed, flicking a bit of lint off his shirt sleeve. "Please. I just find it interesting that you claim you can't stand the guy one minute and a few days later you're telling me you kissed him."

"Because I did. Before I met the guy he just seemed like an overconfident jerk of a sidekick, but then I met him. And I'm pleased to say I was wrong. He seems better than that, at least."

Dick cocked an eyebrow. "'Seems better'? What do you mean by that?" he questioned.

"I've only met Robin once, Dick. I don't even know the guy, maybe it was a fluke or I caught him on a good night or something." I shook my head, settling comfortably into the booth.

"People aren't that straightforward without being sincere," Dick protested.

"By straightforward what are you exactly implying here?" I asked lazily.

"I'm talking about an honest guy, the kind that people can trust. I mean, he saves Gotham so much he should expect the citizen's respect."

"Why are you so eager to make Robin look so good?" I asked suspiciously. I couldn't help but recall the moment yesterday in the car where I'd drawn the scary parallel between Dick and Robin.

"It's not like he's got someone to speak on his behalf, and that doesn't seem fair to me," Dick replied. He was good at pretending to tell the truth, which I suspected he did most of the time to freeloaders and reporters, but I could see right through his lie here, even if those bimbos couldn't.

"Fine, you don't have to tell me. I mean, if I was a lonely little orphan with only one friend it'd be different. Oh wait, I am." I put on a pouting face with pooched lips and slightly scowling eyes.

"Just because we're friends doesn't mean you automatically get to know everything about me," Dick snapped, suddenly angry and spiteful. "Is that so hard to understand, Miss Home-Schooled-Till-7th-Grade?"

"Gee, didn't mean to offend you. Maybe if you didn't act like such a haughty rich kid who seems to know something all the time people wouldn't get curious to see if there's actually someone who's borderline pleasant underneath the unappealing exterior. Why don't you save them the trouble and just show everyone the jerk you obviously are? It'd save people a waste of their time they would've used to try and get to know you." I slid out of the booth, ignoring my leg. "I only wish I'd had that chance." I dug for some money in my pocket, throwing a 10 and a few ones on the table to pay for my half of the lunch before storming out of the restaurant, angry and confused tears prickling in my eyes.

_I guess this lunch wasn't a total disaster_, I thought to myself, rounding a corner too sharply and making my leg twinge in pain. _You finally got to see Dick Grayson for what he really is._


	11. Unmasked

AN: I'm starting to like this chapter a lot, and the only person you can thank that for is knightmare1986 who gave me this brilliant idea with a perfect place to put it. Without them this chapter would've been a lot less interesting in my opinion. So congratulate them if you like the chapter, and if you don't, well… don't read my story anymore? And I'm really curious to see what everyone's favorite chapter is, so if you wanna review or PM me with your answer, I'd be really thankful :D Please read and review like the awesome readers I know you are.

Unmasked

I didn't do much of anything after returning back from the lunch, sitting by myself in my room. After an hour or so I entertained myself with throwing Batarangs at the wall, working at my aim and intensity. It wasn't that hard to channel my anger, all I had to do was think of Dick and of Robin and surprisingly, it was easy to despise both of them the same amount I hated Fincher himself. They were stealing my time, (little by little) my sanity, and completely stressing me out. I let a Batarang fly from my hand, burying it in the wall with a vicious throw.

"I don't have my family, I don't have the Dynamic Duo, I don't have Dick," I growled, stomping across the room to yank the projectile from the wall, glaring at my reflection in the dark metal. "I might as well have no one."

A loud knock came on my door, pulling me from my glaring match with myself. "Stop hitting the wall, freak. Dinner's ready." The voice sounded like the same girl who I'd run into earlier today, her voice easily placed because of how peeved she sounded.

"I'm not hungry," I said darkly, pulling the rest of my Batarangs from the wall.

She left without another word, leaving me to my brooding silence. I had always hated the silence because when I was young, as a frequently used punishment, I was to sit in a single room and think about my actions. It felt like I was in there for hours at a time, nothing accompanying me besides my own guilty thoughts. I supposed these scared and guilt-ridden feelings morphed into a developing fear of silence that plagued me today. I guess it was a good thing to have a fear, though. It kept you rooted to your humanity, and when people get to have power, like Batman for example, their fears need to be used to remind them they aren't invincible or all-powerful, no matter what their legends say about them.

"And how do your fears help you, Owlet?" I asked myself, flopping onto my bed, looking up at the dirty and dingy ceiling, talking to the anti-heroine part of me.

"They don't," Owlet said shortly. I rolled over on my side to look at the digital clock on the bedside table. It read 7:38 pm. I closed my eyes, falling into an exhaustion induced sleep. The last thing I remembered before the dark beginning of dreams swallowed me was Owlet finishing her response with an ambiguous "At least not yet."

* * *

><p>I woke up at 15 minutes to midnight to a bloodcurdling yet muffled scream that was probably a few alleys away from the orphanage. It jolted me from my sleep, my neck immediately twinging because of the odd angle I'd gone to sleep at. If I was going to keep my appointment with Robin I'd have to get ready and leave now. So I suited up, slipping a jacket over the owl suit, tucking my short hair into my cowl and lacing my shoes up tight. I wanted to help whoever had screamed but I knew by the time I got there, wherever there was, it'd probably be too late. This was Gotham, after all. I grabbed my utility belt and Robin's bo staff, sneaking my way out of the orphanage. It was extremely obvious as I stepped outside that it was mid-January. My thin jacket did little to protect me from the winter cold though I couldn't do much about it besides wrap my warms around my torso, hoping it would help.<p>

I got to the meeting place before Robin, awkwardly standing in the shadows of the building nearest to me, waiting for Boy Blunder to show up. I leaned against the bricks of the edifice, letting it chill me to my core as I rested my leg. If he didn't show up soon I was going to keep his stupid bo staff and leave. Hopefully I'd never have to see the jerk again, between him and Dick I was ready to pull my hair out. Today Dick was almost as jerky to Mona as Robin always is to Owlet. I hated to admit it, but the line between them being two different people was quickly disappearing. They were both overconfident and controlling. Dick grew up as an acrobat, therefore giving Robin the perfect skills he uses every night on the streets of Gotham. Once I started to realize the similarities between them, it was almost impossible to see how they could've been different people.

"Good. You came." His voice came out of nowhere, making me slide my eyes over the darkness to see his bright red and yellow costume in the shadows. "I was wondering if you'd show."

"You're one to talk. You're 10 minutes late." I didn't speak over a mumble but I knew he'd heard me. He stepped closer and I could see he had smudged lip gloss on his face.

"I had to save someone," was his only excuse.

"And apparently she had to give you her thanks by ways of her over lip-glossed mouth, am I correct?" I asked in annoyance. I could see Robin really believed Mona was a nobody, now. I thought he was pure, but apparently he had always had a thing for kissing damsels.

Sheepishly he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, looking at me with eye slits narrowed. "As if it's any of your business."

"I could honestly care less about who you kiss, Batboy," I sniped, giving him my very own glare.

"What, jealous, Owlie? At least these people trust me with their lives, the only person who trusts you is Batman, and he's always been kinda iffy," Robin told me condescendingly. I didn't think it would help my case much if I told him Catwoman trusted me to so I kept that information to myself.

"Why would I be jealous of a teenage boy in tights who takes advantage of girls after saving them? You're just a regular high school boy, with the same idiotic things on his mind. I'd swallow a Batarang before I felt anything less than loathing for you."

"You might be dressed as an owl, but we all know your bark is worse than your bite." I could practically see him rolling his eyes at me as I seethed.

"Is that what you think, Boy Wonder? That after these last two weeks of getting my ass handed to my on a plate, I'm still all talk?" I spat, advancing on him. "You have no fucking idea what I've been through and I am so sick and tired of little wannabes like yourself thinking you can take advantage of me."

Robin scoffed. "So you've got problems, that doesn't make you more important than everyone else. It only makes it more obvious what an amateur you are. Everyone knows this business is tough and complaining never helps. Get over yourself and hang up the cowl."

"Not on your life, Robin," I growled, grinding my teeth in anger. I wasn't going to let another stupid boy ruin my day. "Or should I saw Dick?"

I gained a bit of satisfaction as I saw the look on his face that plainly showed he hadn't expected me to know his darkest and most guarded secret. His expression was equal to that of being punched in the stomach, all of the air knocked out of you, your face too shocked to change its horrified and aghast expression. His mouth opened and closed like a fish in water as he struggled to form words.

"How…" He was at a loss for words, his initial shock still resonating in his body. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he processed what I'd said, what it meant for him, how I could've found out he was Richard Grayson. His confusion turned to anger in a second, his slack jaw tightening into an ugly scowl. "How the hell did you find out who I am?" he demanded, yelling in the night.

"We all have our secrets, Dick. I guess I'm just better at protecting the ones I keep than you are." I gave him a nasty smile, feeling all my pent up anger for both of the boys. Most of me was so pissed off at them that I didn't feel much else for Dick and Robin. But there was another part of me that was hurt and betrayed. I had trusted both of them as Mona and I hadn't been told of this, I was kept completely out of the loop. The pissed off part of me was going to repay the favor.

Robin let out a frustrated yell, clutching at his mussed hair, pressing his gloved hands to his eyes as if he thought they were conspiring against him with his ears. "How did she find out?" he asked himself. He looked back up at me, fire obvious in his eyes though I couldn't see them. "Who are you? Show your face!"

"That doesn't sound like a good idea to me. I think I'll keep the cowl on, if you don't mind, Grayson. I'm sure you'll understand." My voice was beyond smug as I responded. His hands balled into fists as he shook in anger. "Secret identities are just one of those things you wanna keep under wraps, you know?"

It was about that time that Robin lunged at me with a righteous yell, his gloved hands reaching for my cowl (or possibly my throat, it was difficult to tell). On any normal circumstance he would've succeeded in what he was trying to do, but I'd been expecting him to come at me. I gave a sneer of a smile before lithely sliding out of the way, extending the bo staff as I did so. I smacked him on the back with it, causing his spine to straighten up with the hit. He was in the process of turning to face me with fury written all over his face as I brought the bo staff up with a single fluid motion, catching his chin with the edge of it, forcing his head up. My hand flew to my utility belt, wrapping my fingers around the object I was looking for before hurtling it at Robin, taking advantage of his current distraction. I'm not sure if you're familiar with something called a bola, but it's a pretty nifty weapon. It consists of thick cords with weights on the ends and you're supposed to throw them at your target. The cords will catch your target and the momentum from the weights causes the rest of the cord to wrap around whatever you threw it at, trapping them. And my target at the moment was a seriously pissed off Boy Wonder.

He gave a sort of startled yelp as the cords tightened, wrapping around his slim torso. I gave him a sly grin as I swept his feet out from under him with the bo staff. Robin landed on his butt, struggling against his bonds but essentially getting nowhere. I stood above him for a moment, reveling in my success. I had single-handedly done something grown men with guns couldn't achieve. I subdued Robin, Boy Wonder, the first sidekick, and an acrobat named Dick Grayson, all on my own. A little victory laugh hiccupped from my chest as if I were drunk on the outcome of the situation. Minding my stitches, I bent down to Robin's level, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"How does it feel to have your butt kicked by an amateur, Grayson? I hope it leaves a bad taste in your mouth." I reached over to his utility belt, flipping open a pouch on his right hip.

"What do you think you're doing?" he yelled into my ear as I took out a few of his Birdarangs as well as some extra smoke pellets.

"Well, you see Richard, I was running low on supplies, and I needed to replenish," I said idly, looking through the rest of his utility belt for anything interesting. "You know, on second thought, I think I'd better confiscate this whole thing. Imagine what the superintendents at Gotham Academy would think if they sophomore Vice-President was running around at night with a bunch of weapons!" An evil look found its way onto my face as I unhooked his utility belt, slinging it over my shoulder. I looked at what I'd already taken from it and a small bottle of clear liquid caught my eye.

I picked it up, holding it up to the light of a streetlamp to read the label. "'Universal Solvent'," I read out loud. "So you glue your mask on? Geez, that sounds so uncomfortable."

"You wouldn't dare," Robin stated as if reading my mind.

"I don't know, tonight I'm feeling pretty risky…" I uncapped the bottle, holding it close to Robin's face, right at the tip of his mask.

"You're going to regret it, Owlet." Robin's voice was barely over an inaudible mumble, his anger now turning to a sort of silent rage.

"If I don't do it I'll never get to see the pretty blue eyes of Dick Grayson while he's dressed as Boy Wonder. I don't want to miss out on that!" I cried out with fake enthusiasm and distress, letting a few drops of the solvent trickle onto the mask. "Besides, I want proof that you're really him, I can't go by your reaction alone."

I grabbed the corner of the mask, slowly peeling it from his face with an exaggerating and agonizing amount of melodramatic tension. Robin had been struggling but now he saw that his efforts were futile. I had won this battle, however the war was long from being over. The glue that had kept Dick's identity in place had been completely dissolved and the domino mask came off in my hands. The mask uncovered an extremely pissed off Dick Grayson who glared at me with fire in his dazzling blue eyes. I gave a sort of excited gasp as I saw it was really him. Though he'd reacted as if he were Dick I couldn't be sure until I saw him. Now that I had I was able to silence my suspicions while quietly nursing my slight disappointment. My ex-best friend was the same guy as my alter-ego's worst enemy. What a day!

"Ah, there's those beautiful blue eyes I'd been missing. You shouldn't scowl so much, Dick; your face will get stuck like that someday."

He didn't reply but the distasteful look said it all. I didn't think that he could've hated my guts any more than he did right now, and for once the feeling was completely mutual.

"Well, it is getting late, Robin. I've got a big day ahead of me tomorrow and I need all the rest I can get." I tucked his mask neatly into one of the pouches in his utility belt. "Good night and sweet dreams, Dick Grayson."

I took his face in my gloved hands, cupping his cheeks and kissing him before he could react. This kiss couldn't have been more different from when Robin and Mona had first kissed. That kiss had been shy with untapped passion underneath. This kiss was vicious, full of unexpected ardor and the tiniest bit of lust. Dick was kissing me back before he knew what he was doing or recalled who I was. He returned the zealous kiss, pairing it with another feeling of something that tasted almost like hate but mixed with an uncontrollable urge for more. My fingers laced into his hair as he kissed me with a renewed hunger that could've been loathing or pure desire. At the moment neither mattered, because this kiss had provided me with a fleeting getaway from a reality that I was starting to despise. I broke the kiss with a heavy gasp, Dick giving the same reaction, a shocked look on his face plainly telling me he hadn't expected that. To be 100% honest, I hadn't either.

"Couldn't help myself, I apologized breathlessly, standing quickly with a slight blush creeping onto my cheeks. "Have a nice night, Wonder Boy."

"Wait," he said softly. I stopped midstride, turning to look back at him, curiosity sparking inside me, leftover from the electric kiss I hadn't anticipated. "Why are you doing all this? Why Owlet?"

I heard the soft tones of his unannounced submission in his voice as he inquired about my alter-ego. "'Justice to the dead first- mercy to the living afterwards'," I quoted quietly, pulling the quote from a play my Acting class was reading.

"Robert from Lady Audley's Secret, Act 2 Scene 1," Dick immediately said. "But who's dead that needs justice?"

"On some levels, I am." With my final answer I walked from Robin/Dick's bound form, disappearing into the night with the barest traces of tears in my eyes as the memory of the kiss still burned on my lips as if it had been branded there.

* * *

><p>Though I was out of my suit and my cowl I still felt like Owlet as I sat in my civilian clothes on a bench in the middle of Gotham Park. It was almost 5 in the afternoon and the golden orange sun was hanging low in the polluted sky of Gotham City. I watched as happy families gathered up their children with smiles and laughter, taking them away from the soon-to-be fearful night. As Mona I should've been shedding a few tears, unable to think of anything but my lost loved ones and what we would've been doing on this Saturday evening. The sight of the happy people should've been tearing me apart. But I only saw these civilians through Owlet's eyes, and Owlet could only see people of Gotham who were so the blissfully ignorant to how corrupt their city really was. Owlet pitied and loathed and envied these people. Pity for their obvious lack of know-how when it came to Gotham. Loathing for their "Don't ask questions about anything suspicious" attitude. Envy for their being able to get away with being ignorant and uncaring in the first place.<p>

I sat with my legs crossed on the bench, my elbows propping themselves on my knees while my hands cradled my chin. I watched the sunset stoically, wondering exactly when the shift had come so that I was Owlet even when I wasn't in costume. In a flash there was someone seated next to me on the bench and I didn't even have to look at them full on to recognize them. The colors on their outfit were the same brilliant shades as the setting sun while their dark hair mimicked the night that was soon to come. I gave a little nod of my head to acknowledge his existence, because though he'd been trained by a certified ninja, I was coming to be able to predict all of his moves.

"Robin," I said curtly, almost over-politely as if we were formally meeting for the first time.

"Mona," he replied with the same stuffy tone, mirroring the way I was acting. "How have you been?"

"Better," I lied, trying to ignore the fact that I knew I was sitting next to Dick Grayson. My one word response hung in the air a few too many moments before the sidekick spoke again.

"That's good." I could tell he knew I was lying and he knew it. I didn't mind the charade though. It was something to keep me preoccupied for a little while.

"And you?" I took the initiative to restart the conversation once we'd lapsed into another silence.

"Ok, I suppose. Things have been very strange lately." He looked down at the ground. I realized that we hadn't once made eye contact throughout the entire time he'd sat down.

"I know the feeling, Rob," I responded, talking to him like he was any other guy. He wasn't Batman's partner, he wasn't my ex-best friend, he was some random stranger I was having a conversation with. The legendary Boy Wonder I had grown up hearing about had been reduced to no more than an average person I sat next to in my history class.

"What's strange in your life?" he asked. If he had actually been a complete stranger I would've spilled my entire life story, starting with Fincher and the fire. Then I'd go on to talk about meeting Dick and then to the first conception and appearance of Owlet. I would follow into how this secret I guarded with my life was staring to tear me apart, teaching me things I'd never wanted to know, revealing secrets that should've stayed hidden, and devouring any chance I could've ever had to be normal. I would tell that stranger that I had accidentally crossed the line between Owlet and Mona, probably last night when I'd unmasked and kissed Dick. I probably would've completely broken down in front of this person, sobbing and begging them to understand how Owlet, who had been the first thing to help me get over the grief of my parents deaths, was now quickly turning into an obsession of trying to stop Fincher and complicating things between all of my personalities and all of Dick's. I would tell that person everything there ever was to know about me, and I probably would've felt like Atlas had taken the weight of the world back onto his shoulders from mine, I would've felt free.

But this was no stranger. This was Dick. And as much as I wanted to, I couldn't trust him. Not after last night. Probably never again.

"It's complicated," I dead panned in a monotone. "You wouldn't understand." And what hurt the most about saying that was knowing in my heart just how much he would have.

"That's too bad. You look really stressed; I thought talking it out would've helped." Therapist Robin had decided to make another appearance, apparently.

"There's a boy," I sighed finally, not sure if I was referring to Dick of Robin. The sun was almost completely gone, sending streaks of wild purples and indigos across the sky.

"What about him?" Robin pressed gently.

"I'm not quite sure. I thought I could trust him. I thought he'd be there for me, especially when I needed him, but he wasn't. And I don't think he ever will be." My throat felt dry, probably due to the fact I hadn't said more than a few words all day.

"Are you sure it's his fault?" Robin asked. He assumed I was talking about Dick.

"I never said it was his fault, I just said I couldn't trust him. We never told each other anything, though. I supposed that's why I couldn't trust him. The only thing I really knew about him was how his parents died, and vice versa for him."

"So it was a communicational problem?" Robin suggested quietly, almost hopefully.

"I guess," I sighed, closing my eyes and slumping into the bench. "How did they die, Robin?"

"Who?" He sounded suspicious but curious at the turn of the conversation.

"Whoever you're avenging," I replied softly.

"Who says I have to be avenging anyone?" His voice was politely defiant as if he wanted to tell me I was wrong but knew it'd be too rude.

"No one. Unless you're telling me you run around in tights at night just for fun," I said half-heartedly, teasing the sidekick.

"I can't tell you," he said quietly, leaning over so his elbows rested on his knees. "It could be compromising to my identity."

"Am I doing the right thing?" I asked him abruptly, spewing the thought as I came to my head.

"Depends on what you're doing," he answered calmly, this time taking the subject change in stride, his tone diplomatic.

"Moving on. It's so hard to do, but I've been told that I'm supposed to let go and go on with life. I want to but I can't, so I don't. Is that right?" I sat up, looking full on at the boy next to me.

Robin looked like he'd aged 20 years in a night as he sighed, looking up at me as well. "Only you can know what's right. And sometimes what's right isn't as important as what's needed."

I had nothing to reply to that, so I said nothing, curling back inward on myself, alone with my thoughts as they bounced around sporadically in my head. It was a few minutes before I said "What's bothering you?" without really knowing why I bothered to ask in the first place.

"It's this girl…" he muttered, trailing off. "She's driving me crazy."

"In the happy, hormones-raging way?" I asked, pushing the conversation along.

"No, in the 'I'll be on the next attendance roster at Arkham' way," he griped.

"Oh," I said, trying to keep my voice emotionless. "Why?"

"I want to hate her. She's smug and she's cocky and she doesn't deserve Batman's trust and she seems to have to one-up me every chance she gets. But I can't just hate her. I can see under her armor she puts up that she's just as lost as I was when I first started being Robin. She's just as torn apart and confused and conflicted as I can remember being. But she won't let me near enough to help her, and my pride seems to repel me away from her as fast as it can. I wish she'd just disappear, but there's a part of me that wants to know everything about her, who she is, why she's doing this, and how she found out… but that's just the superhero-detective part of me. The regular teenager part of me wants to know if she feels the same way…" I was completely speechless. This couldn't be the same Dick Grayson/Boy Wonder from last night. He was so defeated and submissive, so much less hostile about Owlet. Was this what he truly thought?

"Who is she?" I whispered, making the question sound like we were telling each other secrets in the dark. Night had completely fallen and my eyes had to strain to make his figure out. Robin remained silent and I feared he didn't trust me enough to reply. Disappointment and overlapping betrayal washed over me. He could say however many eloquent things about Owlet as he wanted, but if he couldn't trust me, they all meant nothing.

He surprised me when he spoke again. "You first."

I was about to spew every refusal that had sprung to the tip of my tongue before I gave a helpless little sigh and evaluated what I'd almost done. If I wanted Robin to trust Mona, then Mona was going to have to trust him. I swallowed my pride and quietly said "Dick Grayson. He used to be my best friend. Now I'm not sure he ever wants to see me again."

Robin's entire demeanor seemed to relax as I spoke in my timid voice. Was he relieved? A little voice spoke up in the back of my head, telling me that he was lowering his guard without even meaning to.

"It's Owlet. She knows who I am underneath." His whisper was hard to hear even in the silence of the park, it sent a chill down my spine.

"And what did she do?" I asked like a little kid wanting to know what happened next in a suspenseful story, begging for the storyteller to go on with their voice hushed.

"She kissed me." I expected his response to be blunt but it was tender as if he didn't believe it had actually happened.

"Well, did you like it?" I pressed. If it hadn't been dark I bet I would've seen Robin blush.

"I didn't hate it."

"So what does that tell you?"

"She's a good kisser?" he tried.

"No, you idiot," I sighed, swatting lightly at his head in the dark. "It means that she probably feels the same way about you."

"You've never seen us in a conversation," he started. "It can get pretty heated."

"You're probably just two strong personalities butting one another. It happens all the time."

"What if you're wrong?"

"Just believe me on this one, Boy Blunder," I said quietly. There was an unsaid but still audible tone of begging in my voice and I knew he heard it.

"Okay," he said softly, taking my hand in the dark, giving it a light squeeze. "I trust you."

* * *

><p>A large clock in Gotham Square struck 11 pm as I flew over the still very much awake city, soaking up the feeling of flying with a small smile on my face. It felt as though I hadn't been in the air for years, though it had only been a few days. I hadn't wanted to be unnecessarily risky with my stitches so I had kept flying to a minimum and walked mostly everywhere. But I had no other way to get to HAVEN HQ at 11 o'clock at night, so I opted to fly. I didn't even care at this point if my stitches came out, I was at the end of my journey to getting back at Fincher, this was my final act against him, this would be the point in which I would finally avenge my parents and finally avenge myself.<p>

It couldn't have been any more than 10 past 11 as I landed on the familiar HAVEN rooftop. I was more skilled than the first time I'd come here and it showed, seeing as I landed on my feet instead of my back. There wasn't much time to congratulate myself, however. I rushed over to the access door, once again by-passing the security, letting myself in. I went over my plan once again in my head as a shaky sigh left my chest. If I succeeded I could finally hang up the cowl and get a chance to be Mona Ryder. If I failed I had a feeling there'd be no more Mona or Owlet, ever again.

I brushed the morbid thought away, gliding down the stairwell to the 23rd floor, sliding through the entrance like a ninja, melting into the shadows as Catwoman had taught me. The layout of the level was unfamiliar to me but in minutes I was able to find my way around, locating multiple exits I could possibly use in the future as well as some alarms to pull if things really didn't go my way.

There was only one room on the entire floor with its lights on, and it was the one place I was looking for: Jerome Fincher's office. It was empty but intuition told me the evil man would be back soon. I made my move, slipping inside and finding a quick hiding spot beside a large piece of furniture that seemed to be a china cabinet full of odd souvenirs, from tribal pieces to a signed baseball bat. I crouched low, blending into the shadows, thanking every deity that came into my head that this scheme was working so far. Soon I'd have justice for my family.

My breaths came in short, shallow bursts but I couldn't seem to control them. My fear and excitement were going to give my position away if I wasn't careful. But that was the least of my concerns. Let Fincher hear me, his whole scheme will be over soon enough, so what if give my position away a little early? Even though it was tempting to reveal myself as Jerome Fincher walked into his CEO office at HAVEN, I stayed in the shadows, crouched next to Fincher's china cabinet full of strange souvenirs.

The cruel man sat down at his desk, combing his salt and pepper hair away from his face with his hands. With a sigh he opened up a slim laptop that lay atop his desk, tapping rapidly at the keyboard. Stealthily I reached over to my utility belt, hitting the tech synching device Batman had given me, along with the digital recorder hidden in the owl horns of my cowl. I could easily make out what Fincher was muttering to himself as he typed.

"It'd be easier to use the private jet but I'll be harder to track if I use local airports... I could be in Germany with the billions before anyone even knew I had left and taken HAVEN's funds and donations. Hmph, well, local it is."

"Might want to book your ticket in advance, I hear security at airports is a bitch." I unfolded myself from the shadows, speaking clearly in the empty office. Fincher looked unsurprised at my presence, turning to face me in his swivel chair.

"Well, we finally meet, excellent costume I might add. The cowl is such an improvement compared to the ski mask."

"We've met before, Fincher," was all I said, my voice cold with disdain.

"I wouldn't really count your stunt at the banquet a meeting." Fincher looked unimpressed.

"You knew me long before that. Or perhaps you remember my parents better. You gave them a lot of great publicity a few years back."

"Hm, doesn't ring a bell. Did they have names?"

"Jonathan and Melanie Ryder." I said bitterly.

"Your parents were the Ryders... that means, their daughter, that's you? The one who was in the papers the other day?"

With a sense of pride, I pulled off the cowl, showing my face, betraying the identity of Owlet for the first time. "In the flesh."

"I always expected to hear from Mona Ryder as she was trying vainly to prove I caused the explosion that killed her parents. And then Owl Girl shows up and I'm thinking, 'Great, another wackjob who wants to be in the papers.' But look who it turned out to be!" Fincher smiled as if pleased I was Owlet, like it was the sick highlight of his night.

"Even if I can't get you put in jail for killing my parents, you're going for the attempted theft of HAVEN's funds," I continued on, trying to ignore whatever came out of his mouth.

Fincher laughed coldly. "So you know about that? Marvelous. Now I'll have even more incentive to kill you."

A cold fear gripped me but I tried not to show it. "Go ahead, do your worst." I sneered at him as I tried to show I could take him.

"Cliché much?" Fincher asked, pulling a gun from his suit pocket.

"You're the villain with the gun and I'm cliché?" I taunted, instantly regretting it. The gun fired and the glass window of the china cabinet next to me exploded before I even had a chance to process what was going on.

"Damn, sorry, I'm not a very good shot yet. I was aiming for your head," Fincher sighed, busying himself with the gun. Thinking quickly, I grabbed a bronze statue from the broken cabinet, flinging it at the man. It nailed him in the hand as he held the gun, making a gash about an inch long that immediately began to bleed out. The pistol flew out of his hands, sliding under a tall set of antique looking drawers.

Fincher screeched at the loss of his weapon, moving with unsuspected speed, launching himself at me. He knocked me to the floor, landing atop me roughly. Glass from the shattered window cut through my suit, piercing my back with needle like pain. I tried to scream out but Fincher's hands were at my throat, squeezing with a vice grip. I could feel myself fading as my struggles got weaker, my eyesight blurrier. When I was just on the brink of passing out, he let go.

Fincher laughed cruelly as I coughed, sucking in desperate breaths. "I thought a nice, slow killing would be more suitable. It's not like I'm in a hurry, the plane doesn't leave for 3 hours." Cackling, Fincher walked to the broken china cabinet, grabbing the signed baseball bat. "This baby's never been used; wonder if that'll make a difference in the pain."

I tried crawling backward away from him but my hands and forearms were only shredded with the broken glass. A smile lit up Fincher's face as I whimpered and winced in pain, bleeding over his pristine carpet. He raised the bat as if to hit me but was interrupted by his cell phone ringing in his pocket, making the moment the definition of anti-climactic.

"Oh, excuse me, I gotta take this," the evil man answered the phone, turning away from me to talk. I took advantage of his momentary distraction, hitting a panic button I'd found on my utility belt. It let out a soft sigh of a beep but Fincher never noticed. "Yes, I'd adore it if you booked that room for me, how considerate of you to think of me when it became available. I should be there within the next day. Thank you, goodbye." He hung up, turning back to me. "That was the German hotel, they've already booked my room, wonderful, isn't it, communication?" Fincher sent a wide, bared smile to me.

"So when did you become an evil, money hungry jerk? You started HAVEN for better reasons than that, didn't you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, hoping to keep him talking. In all those evil-villain movies the hero had to keep the guy talking because that conversation was always the path to the villain's ultimate demise. I hoped fate would play it out like that for me though this was real life.

"I was a foolish young man when I started HAVEN; I thought one man could change the world with only an idea. And then I realized that no matter how hard you try, you can't get people to listen to you. It may seem like they're listening but they never care about your ideas, they never understand your side of the story. Humans can only take so much frustration and disappointment until they reach their breaking point, and I finally reached mine."

"You killed my parents. Was that before or after you went totally insane?" I tried to keep my voice cold and stoic but whimpers snuck through. The pain from the shards of glass in my arms and back were impossible to forget.

"Snippiness will get you nowhere, Mona. Not that you have anywhere to go. I killed them before I realized nobody listened. And let's just say the Ryders weren't the only people who died for my initial cause."

"That doesn't surprise me, it appalls me. You're abhorrent." I spat. Fincher only stepped over to me, swiftly kicking me in the gut. I doubled over, mute from the pain of the kick and the glass beneath my skin.

"We're not at a spelling, Mona, my dear. Besides, haven't you ever watched a movie with an antagonist? You never talk back when they hold the higher ground." I wanted to scream as he used the little epithet my dad had given me as a kid, always calling me "Mona, my dear," no matter if we were at a party or if we were digging around in the gardens in the backyard. I was always his dear, and Fincher was now poisoning those memories.

A stifled sob escaped me, but it sounded like a wheezy cough. _Did he puncture a lung?_ I thought to myself. _Am I going to die here?_

"Anyways, where was I? Ah, yes, after the breaking point. It was easy to kill your parents, back when I stood for something. Now I just stand for myself, and it works out very well." The man raised his foot, bringing it down on my stomach with sickening speed, seemingly forgetting his baseball bat. It felt as though I couldn't breathe for hours; Fincher appeared to have permanently knocked the air from my lungs as well as breaking a few of my ribs. But my breath came back, for better or worse, in a large, hoarse gasp.

"Had enough, Mona? Should I shoot you now to get it over with or let you slowly bleed to death?" Getting my attention, Fincher kicked me in the face. I felt blood beginning to trickle from my nose and tasted it in my mouth from a split lip. The coppery taste of it made me gag, but I couldn't find the strength to spit it out. Fincher laughed coldly, watching me struggle, bloody spit leaking from the corner of my mouth. I could feel my will fading, slowly becoming nonexistent, slowly oozing out like the blood from my wounds.

_This is it_, I told myself. _This isn't just the end of Owlet; it's the end of Mona, the end of the Ryders. What a great way to make your parents proud, die in the act of avenging them_. I let out an attempted sob, but all I managed was a weak gasp.

"Oh, don't worry, Owlet, you'll be dead soon." Fincher said, cooing to me and using my alter-ego's name for the first time since I'd unmasked. I closed my eyes as he laughed in success, the awful sound echoing in my head. But the laughing stopped, replaced instead by the sound of shattering glass. I squeezed my eyes closed tighter, afraid Fincher was breaking another pane of glass from the china cabinet. But Fincher, instead, had completely switched characters, from evil corporate son of a bitch to innocent civilian.

"Batman!" he cried, rejoicing. "Thank goodness you're here! I've just apprehended the dastardly Owlet; she was sneaking into my office with intent to kill!"

My eyes slowly opened to see Batman and Robin standing in front of Fincher's shattered office window.

"I've heard different," Batman said gravelly, looking over at me and giving Fincher the famous Batglare. "Owlet is one of us. We know you're the one who's been at fault here, in more than one way I'm sure."

Robin hurried over to me, kneeling down. "Mona!" he exclaimed, kneeling down next to me. "Oh god, you're Owlet…"

I wanted to respond to him, to tell him that I meant everything I'd said earlier today, that I was sorry I never let him close. But I couldn't muster even enough strength to form words, the only sounds that came from my mouth were wheezing gasps as I attempted to intake breaths.

"Mona, you're gonna be ok. We've got Fincher, he's not going anywhere," Dick told me. He looked like he wanted to help me up or move me but wouldn't dare. I made eye contact with him, seeing the traces of tears in his cerulean blue eyes as he stared down at me.

Behind Dick, Batman was apprehending Fincher, shoving him against the desk and tying his hands together with the cords of a Batarang. A soft sigh of relief escaped my lips. I hadn't completely failed, at least. Fincher had been caught, my parents had been avenged, and it wouldn't be a total travesty if I died right here on the floor of my biggest enemy's office. I tried to blink but my eyes wanted to stay closed for longer than I had planned. It was a fight to keep them open, a fight I was losing. This didn't go unnoticed by Robin. He looked at me desperately.

"Batman..." Robin trailed off, his voice the only sound in the now quiet room. Batman threw Fincher to the floor, making him land on his face due to his bound hands. The Dark Knight kneeled down to me and for the first time since I'd truly uncovered that Dick was Robin I realized that Bruce was Batman, and he must've somehow known I was Mona all along. The information settled me as I exhaled contentedly, letting my eyes droop closed, possibly permanently. The last thing I remembered seeing was the faces of Batman and Dick Grayson hanging above me.


	12. Tying Up Loose Ends

AN: OHMYGOSH! You guys don't know how long I have been waiting to get to this part! I've been writing this story since about August or September but it seems so new. Now that I'm at the actual end of the first half I just can't believe all I've accomplished here. I never thought I'd get this far, and to be truthful, this is the long thing I've ever written continuously in my entire life. On paper this is 309 pages long. And part two is supposed to be just as long as part one, so we're looking at like a 600 page novel here. I don't want to curse myself, but I've got a nasty habit of starting things and never finishing them, but I will try my hardest to finish this story. I owe it myself and I owe it to all you faithful readers who have helped me with my first story on . So I cannot thank you enough. Without further ado, I give you the final installment of part one, please read, enjoy, and review :D

Tying Up Loose Ends

When I woke up I was vaguely aware that my tongue was dry and my hair was knotted and matted in my face, but I was mostly focusing on the fact that everything hurt. My back and arms were wrapped tightly with stiff gauze. My nose ached and when I lifted an arm to touch it, my nose stung harshly, the area around it an my eyes was extremely puffy and I could feel a slight kink in the bone where it must've been reset. I took a deep breath to sigh in fatigue, feeling the pain of a surely broken rib in my chest. I groaned a bit to myself, leaning over to feel what was going on with the stitches in my leg. They seemed to be neater than the ones Robin had done, leading me to believe they'd been redone.

"Great," I said hoarsely. At first I was shocked at my voice, then I realized how Fincher had choked me last night. Of course. I sat up on my forearms, wincing as I did so, looking down at my body. I was wearing a Gotham Academy sweatshirt and my legs were covered with a thick blanket, both of which I was sure didn't belong to me. I slipped my legs out from under the blanket, putting my bare feet on the cool tile floor. The room I was in was dimly lit to where I could see large cabinets, a long metal table, and a door at the other end. Making up my mind, I headed to the door with careful, staggered steps.

It wasn't until I pushed open the door to see a large cavernous expansion that I realized I was in the Batcave. I'd heard rumors about the mysterious place, hearing that no one was ever allowed in but if Batman ever took you inside you would never see the light of day again. I had always rolled my eyes at the silly horror stories that made Batman sound like a specter to college kids in a rural town or something, but when I stumbled while walking farther into the depths of the cave and nearly plummeted into a great, dark abyss, I was finding that it was getting easier and easier to believe in the ghost-like tales of the Dark Knight.

After a while I found myself in the midst of the Batcave. There was a large computer console with a single leather chair seated in front of it, a circular platform with the Batmobile parked on it, and, what caught my eye the most, a display area where a few of the compartments held costumes. One was an earlier looking version of the Batman costume where the coloring was more blue and grey than all black. The next held a significantly smaller costume made up of a bright red tunic with green sleeves, a canary yellow cape and green gloves, boots, and… green panties? I couldn't help myself as I let out a loud laugh, quickly followed by a yelp of pain. Note to self: Don't laugh with a broken rib. Injuries aside, I still couldn't believe Dick had worn small green underoos in his early days as Robin. How could I have forgotten something like that from when the Bo Wonder had started working beside the Dark Knight?

Because of my rib, I resorted to lightly chuckling to myself. But it wasn't until I go to the next costume that was displayed that I really hurt myself as I took in some air for the purpose of a gasp. My lung screamed in pain but I ignored it, looking at the suit displayed before me. It was my suit, Owlet's suit, with a bright light shining on it, showing the sewn up rip on the right arm with an accompanying bloodstain, the case being the same with the right leg. I opened up the glass door to the case, turning the mannequin holding the suit so I could see the tattered and blood stained back. In a sort of shocked silence I turned the mannequin back, closing the glass pane and staggering back a few steps. I had suffered such intense injuries, not just last night, but in the last two weeks, that it was surprising I was even standing here today at all. I couldn't help but wonder what had kept me alive. My stamina? My instincts? Sheer, dumb luck? Whatever the case I was eternally grateful and slightly frightened. Grateful because this unseen force had helped me avenge my parents by capturing Fincher. Frightened because I didn't know if this helpful force would disappear one day or if it came with a cost I wasn't willing to pay.

I was pulled from my thoughts as a loud snapping sound reverberated throughout the cave. I recognized it immediately as the sound of a grappling hook catching a target, followed by the cord going taut. I looked up to see Robin swooping out of the shadows , letting go of the grappling hook at its peak swing. He flipped expertly through the air, landing in front of me with a slight smirk on his face.

"I take it these are yours?" I asked, pretending to completely ignore that he was Robin, gesturing to the sweatshirt and pajama pants I was wearing. Though I couldn't see his eyes I knew he was rolling them at me.

"After we find out each other's secret identities and alter egos and took down the guy who murdered your parents and patched you up from almost certain death, the first thing you ask me about is if that's my sweatshirt?" he asked with a slight sigh in his voice.

"I thought I'd make a bit of casual conversation before heading into the heavy stuff, like how you tricked me when I was Mona and you were Robin and you never told, or how you were such a fucking jerk to Owlet even when she hadn't done anything to you, or even about how short-tempered you were with me at the restaurant at lunch on Friday when I'd asked an innocent question. For your information, your initial reaction at lunch led me closer to believing that you were Robin, so you've only got yourself to blame that I found out. Now would you like to continue this conversation or go back to the topic of the sweatshirt?" I cocked an eyebrow, challenging him.

"I didn't trick you," he said softly, averting his gaze and walking past me to what seemed to be a high tech closet. His reaction shocked me. I would've thought after my outburst he would've been angry, but his voice only held a guilty sadness. "At least, I didn't mean to."

"Could've fooled me," I said sourly, following his slowly retreating form with my eyes. He began to take off various aspects of his Robin costume. First the cape, then the utility belt, soon followed by the red tunic to show a black undershirt that hugged his lithe and slightly muscled frame. Dick ran a hand through his hair, something I noticed he did a lot. He now stood before in all black clothes with his domino mask, showing off his toned body while hiding his identity. I got a better look at him with the mask still on, amazed at how I never saw the obvious parallels before. I suppose since I never gave serious thoughts to the idea of Dick being Robin I never tried to link them, besides the time in the car a few days ago. I guess that's why they don't call me the Greatest Detective in the World.

"You tricked me," he pointed out, silently referring to how I'd led him to believe some random vigilante had figured out his identity.

"You deserved it. You were being all high and mighty, Mr. Conceited Masked Hero. Someone needed to knock you off your pedestal and I was the only candidate."

"The cases are completely different," he argued, finally slipping off the black mask with a few spritz of solvent, letting his blue eyes be seen. "I was trying to protect you, you were trying to get back at me."

"I don't think they're all that different. We both had something to hide and even though we may have trusted each other to a point as Mona and Dick, this was too big of a secret to share. We were protecting our identities as well as ourselves. If, say, the Joker caught wind of Robin and Owlet being buddy-buddy he could've somehow used it against us and someone's secret identity could've slipped out in the process and our normal personas could've been targeted."

"You're making this sound far too simple, Mona. It's not just costumes and crime fighting. Lives are at stake here."

"You think I of all people don't know that, Dick? My parents died two years ago, sending me down this path where I nearly died yesterday. I understand that lives are at stake, not only mine or yours but the actual innocents of Gotham City that we need to protect. That night at the cemetery a few days ago, I subconsciously made a promise to myself. I made a promise on the grave of my parents I would rid this city of the evil that took their lives. I'm not going to sit around now that Fincher has been caught." I gave him a little glare before going on. "Besides, this is simple. Owlet could help Batman and Robin; another set of eyes never hurt anyone before. I could help you guys and help myself, it'd be like killing two birds with one stone." I paused and thought about it for a second. "No, sorry, that's a terrible analogy, considering robins and owls are birds."

"This isn't a game, Mona."

"When have I ever treated this like a game, Dick? From the beginning this was serious, I was serious. And I still am. I can channel my seriousness to kicking ass to the other criminals of Gotham City, costumed or otherwise."

"Enough," a voice spoke up, interrupting Dick as he was about to retort. We both looked up to see Batman standing before us, but for the first time ever I saw him without his cowl, revealing the contoured face of millionaire play-boy Bruce Wayne. I blanched for a moment, feeling awkward and insignificant in front of the two scariest men I knew, Bats and Bruce. It only made sense Bruce was Batman, who else could've been intimidating enough to pull off the Dark Knight persona? Bruce had the means, the abilities, and the drive to parade around Gotham as the Caped Crusader.

"How long did you know?" I blurted, unable to help myself as the words tumbled from my lips. "How long have you known Owlet was Mona?"

A frown found its way onto the millionaire's face, creases deepening in worry and thought along his forehead and mouth. "In the beginning you were on the initial list of suspects, but I didn't have enough evidence to narrow it down to you, besides the fact it would've been all too easy for you to have gotten that suit from your parents, though I never remembered them mentioning it. I knew for sure that night at the bank, when you directly quoted something only Mona Ryder would've known I'd said."

"So if you knew who I was why did you let me continue to strike against Fincher?" I cocked an eyebrow, looking up at the inspirational yet fear inducing man. He sighed heavily, turning from me to go to the same closet type thing Robin had gone to.

"I knew you as a kid, Mona, and you were always so full of light and life. It wasn't until the death of your parents that you lost your zeal, your spirit. It only made sense that you'd take revenge on someone who deserved it as well as for people who couldn't administer it for themselves. I did a little digging on Jerome Fincher and found he'd been accused of many crimes, from murder to embezzling though no one seemed to be able to pin him with the crime." Bruce turned, giving me a pointed look. "At least, not till Owlet came along."

"So are you going to let me continue to crime fight? I think I at least deserve a chance." I tried to ignore Dick as he rolled his eyes at me.

"You don't even have a suit to use anymore, Mona. You can't fight crime in jeans and a t-shit," Dick snorted as he stretched, letting an evening of fighting and tight muscles flow from him.

"I'll make another one. I'll use that one, I'll wear something else, I'll use that," I said evilly, pointing at Robin's old costume with the small green panties. "I'm sure I could squeeze into it." A look of aghast shock passed of Dick's face before turning into a deep glare.

"I don't think that'll be necessary." Bruce emerged from the uniform closet, holding a bundle of charcoal grey, almost black, fabric. It was folded up in his arms with a matching cowl and utility belt stacked atop it. I felt my jaw go slack as I stumbled forward to take the bundle from his hands.

It was like I was 13 again, back in my parent's lab as I saw the owl suit for the first time. I gripped it gingerly by the shoulders, letting it hang down in front of me. I could feel how much thicker the material was than the previous suit, thicker yet just as light. I examined it with amazed eyes, letting my fingers feel the armor-like padding on the torso, most likely bullet-proof. And on the left side of the torso there was a single golden "O" that looked to be made from textured feathers.

"Bruce…" I choked out, close to tears as I looked up at the man. As fast as my body would allow me, I ran forward, pitching myself into a hug. He seemed utterly shocked for a moment before awkwardly hugging me back, embracing me like a father would.

"I can't thank you enough," I whispered tearfully into his chest. He patted my back softly, minding my injuries.

"Of course you can," he replied gruffly, almost sounding close to tears himself though I knew it couldn't have been possible. I mean, c'mon, he's the goddamed Batman. "Just promise you won't go out as Owlet until you're fully healed. If you go out now you'll only succeed in getting yourself killed."

"I promise!" I said wildly, looking up at him. "I swear! I won't let you down, Bruce."

"Good." He awkwardly retreated from the hug, leaving the cowl and utility belt on a nearby work table before melting into the shadows of the cave, leaving me alone with Dick.

For a few moments it was utterly silent, not quite uncomfortable or threatening, just uncertain. It couldn't have been any more obvious that either of us had no idea where to start. Ignore our problems, bury them under an unsuspecting looking friendship and forget the way we thought we felt about one another? Or do we face the ugly truths and possibly sacrifice a friendship in the process (and that's not even including the way Bruce will react once we reach a final decision). I gently folded up the suit, putting it on the table next to the rest of the new Owlet suit. I wouldn't need it for a while, so I might as well leave it here with Bruce. It'd be too much of a temptation if I kept it, and there was always a chance I'd break something in the utility belt or the cowl. With a small little sigh I leaned up against the table, shyly looking over at Dick. He was looking back, some undetectable feeling being portrayed in his clear blue eyes.

"Why does it seem like everything is spilling out at once?" Dick questioned, almost directly quoting me from when Robin and Mona had first met. I gave him a smile that he easily matched. It was obvious which road we'd be going down now.

"Because we're facing it instead of ignoring it," I replied quietly, slowly making my way over to him. After a moment of hesitation we met one another in a close embrace, me burying my face in his chest as he hugged me closer, his arms around my shoulders. I could feel his head resting on my own. "Words of wisdom, Richard."

"Very true, Mona," he replied softly, his breath stirring my hair. "I'm sorry, about everything, by the way. I didn't know it would turn out this way."

"What way? You and me finding out we're secret vigilantes in a crime-ridden city like Gotham? I don't think either of us intended for that to happen," I gave a slight hiccup of a chuckle, ignoring the pain in my chest.

"Good point," he agreed quietly. "Regardless of that, we need to talk, Mona. I don't want to skirt around this anymore."

"So we'll set up a date." I grinned, looking at him. "And then we'll talk about what we're going to do about Dick and Mona as well as Robin and Owlet. Deal?"

"Deal."

"But right now I have to go, things to do, people to see, places to go." I broke away from him. "Someone like Boy Wonder understands that, right?"

"Yea, I get it." He gave me a supporting smile and I knew that he really did get it.

"I can take you wherever you need to go, Miss," Alfred said, walking stiffly from the shadows like the dutiful butler we all knew he was. I had a feeling he'd been watching the entire Bruce/Mona/Dick conversation but I didn't mind.

"I'm liking hanging out around her," I said, gesturing to the Batcave with a smile, following Alfred up a hidden set of stairs, making my way out of the secret headquarters of the Dark Knight.

(PUT A LINE BREAK HERE!)

"You've got guts, Ryder. No one can doubt that," Selina told me, setting down a bowl of piping hot mac and cheese in front of me on the coffee table in her small living room. I smiled to myself, gratefully eating the hot food. It was like she knew I was coming and made mac and cheese just like the first time I'd been to her apartment.

"I'm just worried he's going to tell who I am. I'm not sure I can live without Owlet these days," I sighed, rubbing my temples.

"I doubt you'll have to worry about him," she answered in her usual detached way. Not for the first time I wondered if there was a box she was missing in her attic (i.e.: kinda crazy).

"Why? If I were him I'd want revenge and he knows my identity," I argued, picking up the brown cat that slunk by my feet.

"Mona, honey, who would want to admit a teenage girl single-handedly toppled them from their crime throne? Especially if your ego is as big as Metropolis and you're a grown man used to getting what he wants. Your secret identity should be completely safe, Ryder."

"I hope you're right, Selina," I replied, my voice obviously stressed.

"What's bothering you, Mona?" she questioned, sitting in her chair across the room.

I rubbed the cat behind its ears, averting my gaze from the woman. "I'm just wondering what's going to happen to me at the orphanage. I don't want anyone to find out who I am, but I have nowhere else to go."

"Don't you?" she asked as if the answer was obvious.

"Not unless Mr. Batman decides to take up another ward." I bit my lip, realizing I'd practically let slip Dick's identity. Selina waved her hand carelessly.

"Relax, I've known Bruce is Batman for a while now. When did you finally figure it out?" she asked casually.

"Last night," I said slowly, attempting to take all this new and strange information in.

"I know something will fall through, Mona. Take my word for it." Selina gave me a knowing smile and within the hour I'd been back to the orphanage to change then found myself heading back over to Wayne Manor.

It felt odd to wait for someone to answer the door for me. All the other times I'd ben to Wayne Manor recently all I'd had to do was wait for Dick to unlock the door with a quick flick of his wrist. But I stood and waiting patiently, ignoring my dismal thoughts on how I knew I looked. At the orphanage I'd gotten good look at myself. My face was heavily bruised and especially my nose which had a slightly noticeably bump in the middle. The skin under the bandages was so purple it was almost black. My normal and un-bruised skin was a few shades paler than normal, no doubt due to all the blood loss I'd gone through. I had taken a peek under the bandages on my arm to see my flesh cut like ribbons, and I was amazed it was still hanging onto the bones. I sincerely hoped I wouldn't get an infection from one of my injuries. That would've been a highly less than stellar way to end my vigilante career.

The door opened to show Alfred, who let a small smile, which almost seemed relieved, grace his face. "Miss Ryder, good to see you again."

"You too, Al. Bruce and Dick still here?" I asked, sending a sincere yet slightly pained smile back to the philanthropic butler.

"I do believe they're in the study, discussing some matters of their other lives."

"I don't think they'd mind if I joined in, do you?"

"Certainly not. Please, follow me." Alfred stepped aside to let me in, graciously helping me over the top step of the threshold.

He led the way down a few majestic halls until we reached a set of tall double doors that looked daunting enough by themselves. I could only imagine how much more intimidating it would be inside them. But I took a breath, pushing down my worries and uncertainties and opened the door.

Bruce stood by the fireplace, looking at a portrait of a man and a woman above the mantle. I recognized them from news reports as his late parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne. It was easy to see where Bruce got his striking looks from, both his parents had been beautiful people in their day. Dick was across the room, leaning his weight on a large wooden desk. They both turned as I entered and I gave a timid smile before going to sit on the large sofa seated in front of a window. It was dusk when I'd arrived and the light of day was slowly retreating from the sky, painting the grounds of Wayne Manor a deep indigo-violet color.

"I assumed there were things we needed to talk about," I said, feigning a casual demeanor as I propped my leg up on the plush couch. Pain pulsed throughout my body but I gritted my teeth, doing my best to ignore it. I had learned that you shouldn't show pain to anyone, friends or foes.

"You thought right," Bruce said gruffly, turning to look at me. "So you've definitely decided to stay as Owlet?"

I gave a short decisive nod. "It's what feels right to me," I answered quietly but confidently. I remembered my dad telling me once that confidence was knowing you were capable of doing anything you set your mind to, but arrogance was making sure everyone else knew. There was something about crossing that line from believing in your abilities to flaunting them that made my dad's skin crawl. I had always supposed it was one of his strange perks but now I was finally able to see the lesson to be learned.

"I'm sure you've already seen a lot of the unique stresses that come with using an alter ego to fight crime," Bruce started, making small gestures with his hands as he spoke. I couldn't help but feel like I was at some board meeting he was presenting at. "And with time they only get worse. But I would suggest since you're so stupidly adamant on staying Owlet, using a more underhanded approach to fighting crime in Gotham City would benefit all of us."

"You mean, like making the villains think I'm a solid part of their operation? Pretending to be on their side?"

"Only for the purpose or bringing them down with more ease for us and evidence to the DA's office. Owlet is seen as somewhat of a criminal already, we all know you've done criminal acts, so she's the perfect candidate to infiltrate enemy lines. You could get farther inside than Batman or Robin ever could." Bruce's voice seemed unattached as he talked, as if this were just some other business deal, not me risking my life as Owlet to get behind criminal borders.

"OK," I said after a few minutes of thought. "I'll do it. It'll do wonders for my image, though. Imagine how much Gothamites will come to love their favorite anti-heroine, the owl girl." My sarcasm got a little chuckle out of Dick but nothing more than a slight facial twitch from Bruce, which may or may not have been involuntary.

"There's something else I'd like to talk to you about, Mona," Bruce announced. I gave a little eyebrow cock but said nothing, letting the millionaire go on with his monologue. "Lately I've been thinking that it isn't quite fair you should have to stay at the orphanage, considering how compromising it would be to your identity should anyone discover it, and not to mention the overall lack of-"

"What Bruce is trying to say," Dick interrupted, making his way over to me in a few long strides. "Is will you come live with us? Here, at the Manor." I couldn't mistake the longing in his eyes as he asked the question.

"You know, as a ward, like Dick." Bruce looked awkward and uncomfortable as he clarified. I felt my mouth drop before turning up into a grin.

I got up off the couch, pulling both of them into as tight a hug as I could without breaking or re-breaking bones. "You guys are awesome, you know that?"

"So, is that a yes?" Dick asked, gingerly hugging back. I pulled away, my grin getting bigger.

"Actually, it's a no," I told them, shaking my head as the hopeful look on Dick's face fell. "I can't come and stay with you guys."

"Why not?" Dick protested. "This is the best place for you! A home, a family, the Batcave, what more could you need?"

"You didn't let me finish, Richard," I said in a fake stern voice. I waggled a finger at him. "I can't stay here because someone else already offered to adopt me. I believe you two are familiar with Selina Kyle?"

A full out smirk found its way onto Bruce's face. "Now I see why all your moves seemed so familiar. You were trained by Catwoman."

"What, like the Catwoman? You were trained in combat by Catwoman?" Dick exploded. I could see the gears turning in his head. "And she's adopting you?"

"Yes, Dick. That's what has been so far established in the conversation," I said to him as if talking to a 5 year old.

"You'll still go to Gotham Academy?" Bruce asked, seemingly unfazed by the news I'd given them.

"Might as well, now that I've made a friend." The scowl that had crept onto Dick's face left and was replaced by his trademark smile. "She's this really nice girl in my Spanish class, her name is Kelly." I couldn't help but let a laugh bubble from me as Dick rolled his eyes at me and Bruce tried to hide his ever-growing smirk. And though I wasn't going to stay at the Manor, Dick had been right about one thing: I'd get a family.

And apparently, without me knowing it, that was what I was really looking for the entire time.

(PUT LINE BREAK HERE!)

"I always knew keeping my crap packed would come in handy one day," I said as I heaved my single suitcase onto the bed I'd used to stay the night. Selina stood framed in the doorway, a light smile on her face.

"Well, there you have it. Welcome home, kid. I never thought I'd actually have a kid, adopted or otherwise." She shook her blonde hair from her face. "It's just such an alien concept, actually being responsible for something else, legally responsible."

"You're making it sound like taking care of me will be so much work." I rolled my eyes, brushing my bangs out of my face. "All I need is food, a place to stay, and training. Otherwise I'm pretty self-sufficient."

"We'll see," Selina drawled, slinking out of my room with a knowing grin on her face.

As I began the tedious yet wonderful chore of unpacking my few belongings into my new home, the single phone in Selina's apartment rang from a wall that separated the kitchen and the living room. "I'll get it," Selina sighed, rushing over to it.

"Good, it's probably for you anyway. This being your apartment and all," I answered cheekily, a dopey grin on my face.

"Shut up, smart ass," was all she said before picking up the phone. "Hello?" She only listened for a few seconds before calling out. "Mona, it's for you!"

I let a puzzled look cross my face as I went to get the phone. "Who is it?"

"Boy Blunder, and he sounds pretty upset. Said he needed to talk with you." She handed me the phone, taking a few steps back from me. The first thing that tipped me off was the worried look on her face. What was she expecting me to hear?

"Hello?" I asked, letting my confusion out clearly in my voice. "Dick?"

"Mona," he said breathlessly as if he'd just run a mile. "Mona, something's happened."

"What's wrong?" I demanded. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's Fincher…" My blood ran cold at those two words, something awfully foreboding told me in the back of my head that I wasn't going to like what I heard next. I gripped the phone harder, my fingertips going numb as I did so.

"Just tell me, Robin." I didn't know what possessed me to use his crime fighting name, but somehow I thought that if it was too hard to be said as Dick it'd at least be easier to spit it out as Robin.

I heard him give a deep breath before continuing on. "Fincher, Mona, no one knows what happened, or how, or why, but he… he got away."


	13. Owls, Bats, and Old Friends

AN: This chapter is important, may not have a lot of action, but it introduces someone you're going to see a lot of in part two. I'm sorry, it has like no Bruce, Dick, or Selina, but hey at least you get to know a lot about this new character, right? OH! I've decided that I'm going to try my hardest to update every 5 days. I realize that this is the sixth day since my last update but if I had stayed up typing this last night I would've totally passed out during school today. Please enjoy Chapter One of Part Two, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

Owls, Bats, and Old Friends

Four weeks. I have been out of commission for four weeks. For the first three I was a little more than a healing couch potato, and for the last one I have been training my ass off, honing my now forgotten yet newly acquired skills, feeling what it is to have power again, to not be helpless. Many in Gotham doubt my return, most claim me to be dead or think I have just hung up my cowl since Fincher had been toppled from his corporate crime throne. Those people obviously don't know who I am, but I plan on showing them just what I'm capable of and willing to do. With my return they will see a new side of Owlet that even I didn't know was there, they will see a vigilante who will go to more extreme means than their beloved yet misunderstood Batman, the public of Gotham will see an entirely new Owlet, from suit to attitude. Why? Because we all know how a near death experience can really change a person.

In my time of healing I took up journal writing as a pastime because, really, what else could I do? Being in the Batcave made me depressed, staying at Selina's nearly killed me (from boredom and my new-found allergy of cats), and I couldn't walk around Gotham or go to school because of my injuries. So I sat in one of the lounge rooms of Wayne Manor that overlooked the sprawling property of Bruce, and I wrote. I wrote about life as Mona, how I had to miss school because (or so the official report says) on my way back to the orphanage one night I'd been recognized as the daughter of a couple of very rich and very dead socialites and given an uncomfortable ultimatum: somehow get my attackers the money that lies in my parent's bank account or pay the consequences. Apparently these people had no idea I was unable to access the money so they beat me nearly to death and left me slowly bleeding in an alley downtown. My only friend from school, Dick Grayson, stumbled upon me and immediately got me help. Without him I would be dead though I wasn't sure if it would've been better or worse than the pain of healing and the sting of boredom.

I also kept an Owlet journal, telling the truth of my injuries and my plans for the future. I wrote of all my past adventures and of all I hoped to come. I wrote of the Batcave and the cool gadgets, of meeting Batman and Catwoman, and of flying in the owl suit, but, unsurprisingly, I had the most to say about Gotham's only resident Boy Wonder, better known as Robin. I wrote pages and pages of my vigilante life, writing until my hand cramped up and my fingers blistered. I wrote in such detail and passion any literature teacher would have been proud of me. And whenever I finished writing my tale I would dutifully head down to the kitchen, and using a pair of tongs I would take the tale page by page and catch the tip of it in the toaster with the heating element on. Then I'd put the burning papers in the sink until only ash remained of a once great story and I was able to wash it down the drain. I had been using the fireplace in the downstairs living room but one night I hadn't been paying attention to my surroundings and I grabbed the wrong end of the poker, severely burning my left hand. Needless to say, Bruce hadn't let me anywhere near the fireplace since then. So I just went to the toaster and it seemed to work out just about the same. Surprisingly though, it never pained me to destroy all the written evidence of my vigilante life. If everyone knew about it then it wouldn't be special, not to me at least. And, as Bruce always said, without our identities we're no use as crime fighters.

"No one is going to be scared of a 15, well almost 16, year old girl. But a dark shadow in the night, emerging from the abyss dressed strangely with then face covered? That's the stuff of nightmares," Bruce would tell me, occasionally lightening up as he did so. It saddened me to see how much being Batman did to Bruce. It took a heavier toll than being Robin or Owlet ever would have, considering he was the staple of crime fighting in Gotham, the target of so many evil-doers, and even a role model to some (myself included). I know I have a lot of stress to get through, but whatever my load is, there's no doubt in my mind Wayne's is harder to bear.

But those times he did lighten he seemed to be with Dick or Selina or me. It was as if when he was alone, his world was completely black and white of crime and pain, with the occasional grey blur of a costly success. But with us his world seemed to gain color and another meaning besides being the Masked Marauder of the Caped Crusader. We were the parts of his world that made sure the dark didn't swallow our knight whole.

Parts of me couldn't even begin to understand how Bruce's mind worked and how he could operate as Batman night after night even with the tragedies he witnessed time and time again. I suppose nobody could understand all of Bruce, though. Dick might've understood some of the things he'd had to witness while on patrol. I'm almost sure Selina understood his loneliness, and perhaps helped him extinguish his while sating hers. But no one could've understood how much memories affected Bruce Wayne more than I could've.

Something that had always surprised me even after I'd become Owlet, was how so many small, insignificant and random things could bring up so many dormant memories. Like how I'd once been flying over downtown Gotham and had smelled the scent of Anthony's Italian Restaurant and was instantly reminded of when my family would go there on special occasions. Other times I could be innocuously listening to the radio to have some song that was popular when I was 12 come on and have me reduced to a blubbering mess of Mona at the mere thought of how I'd begged my parents to go see the boy band in concert.

But actually seeing a dredged up memory from my childhood would've shocked me right to the core. So when Carolina Nolan knocked on Selina's apartment door the Saturday evening I got back home (and it felt so good to call this place home) I was absolutely stunned to see her. When we were kids our parents used to throw parties for their science-y friends. Carolina's parents were rich marine biologists who were very close to my parents. The four of them even worked to develop some aquatic advantages for humans. But whenever our parents dragged us along anywhere, Carolina and I always kept each other company.

Over the years we grew extremely close, but Carolina had always had a talent for acting (or as I thought of it when I was a kid, totally faking the adults out). When we were 9 she landed a commercial gig and went on from there. Before I knew it, my best friend had become famous and left me behind. Carolina's acting abilities weren't the only thing I remembered from our childhood though. Lina, as I sometimes called her, put on amazing magic shows with dazzling tricks that left even the big kids puzzled. She could make things appear and disappear, move without touching them, and even, occasionally, tell the future. As a kid I'd always blown them off as cool parlor tricks (being raised by scientists makes one pretty skeptical) but she never told me how she did them.

It had been at least 5 years since I'd heard from Carolina, neither of us even attempted to make contact with the other. But there she was, standing in the hallway of Selina's apartment building. Carolina had always been very slim and tall, probably due to her gymnastics training as a child. She had a heart shaped face with golden waves of hair. Splashed across her nose were modest freckles that brought out the brown flecks in her green hazel eyes. As a child I'd always thought she looked perfect, but as I grew older I noticed her only imperfection: slightly buck teeth. However, they only made her seem more down to Earth when she smiled radiantly.

Carolina wore a thick scarf around her neck, loosening it as she smiled a bit uncertainly at me. "Long time no see, Mona Lisa. Have the years been good to you?" I rolled my eyes at the nickname she insisted on calling me since we were 6 and she'd visited the Louvre.

"Not particularly," I replied, referring to my physical and mental state. "The years have actually been quite awful, especially the last few weeks. But anyways, what are you doing here?" I tried my hardest to keep my shock from showing, to keep my composed state.

Carolina was slightly taken aback by my bluntness but continued. "I decided to take a little vacation from Hollywood, and come back to my roots in Gotham. As soon as my plane touched down I called your house, but the line was disconnected. I asked around and finally found you here. I was hoping we could get some coffee and catch up." My old friend looked at me uncertainly, probably wondering where I'd gotten my injuries, especially my ever-healing, still bruised nose.

"I guess that couldn't hurt," I said cautiously, nodding slowly. It was about 5 in the afternoon, so I didn't have to worry about Bruce calling me to go on patrol in the next few hours or so (and he had promised me I was going to get to go out tonight as Owlet, after a month of waiting!). I turned from Carolina, shouting to Selina. "I'm going out with a friend! I'll be back in a few hours!"

"Are you going to wear grey? It's awfully overcast for it today," Selina asked me in an easy-to-understand code whether or not I was going out as Owlet. I'd been training with her and Bruce for this entire week, so she knew I'd be ready to handle whatever some crook threw at me.

"No, I'm not planning on wearing grey for a few more hours," I called back, grabbing my jacket and communicator from Bruce (which would alert me of any Owlet-type opportunities in the immediate area) and closed the door behind me.

* * *

><p>"So," Carolina interjected after we'd been catching up and idly chatting for an hour or so. We had just sat down with our second cup of coffee, trying to keep warm in the mid-February weather. Even though we'd been inside for a while Carolina's nose and cheeks were still a bright red as if she had a cold. "What exactly have you been up to?"<p>

"Oh, nothing," I replied casually, pretending like the people around us in the restaurant weren't still staring at us. I mean, it wasn't all that hard to understand, one of was a Gotham socialite that had been all over the news for the past month while the other one was a famous actress. I dumped a few packets of sugar in my new cup of coffee and stirred it in. "Still coping with the death of my parents, going to school at Gotham Academy, healing after I got the shit beaten out of me a month ago, settling into my legal ward's house after staying in an awful orphanage for two year."

Carolina didn't seem to miss a beat as she processed the new information, though she looked a bit paler. "Dead? How are your parents dead? It seems like just yesterday they were trying to give swimmers gills and fins." Carolina got a far off look in her eyes, reminiscing mixed with grief. She turned her attention back to me. "How did they die?" she asked in a hushed voice.

My expression immediately darkened not only with contempt but with a depressed sadness that you can only feel with the loss of a loved one. I gazed down at my hands, holding my coffee, glad for a distraction so I didn't have to look at her. "They were murdered in a fire in their lab."

"By whom?" she asked, listening captively.

"I saw him as I was taken out of the fire, standing there admiring his handiwork." I scowled before going on. "His name is Jerome Fincher; he was the CEO of HAVEN. Heard of it? A few weeks ago one of Gotham's resident vigilantes showed the world his true colors. He was trying to embezzle funds from HAVEN but a single girl took his operation down. Around here they call her Owlet." Carolina nodded slowly, probably still thinking of the question I'd asked her, slowly getting a far off look in her eyes. The unfocused look quickly turned to one of complete blankness. Carolina's hand went slack as she dropped her coffee. Thankfully it had only been a few inches above the table top. As the cup landed it bounced, spilling some of the coffee but most stayed in the cup. Carolina's eyes went hazy as though a strange film had come over them.

"Lina?" I asked cautiously, wondering what was happening to my old friend. She let out a low moan from her throat. People began to stare at us again, though this time it was more out of annoyance than awe. I gave them an apologetic look.

"She just really likes coffee," I made up, laughing sheepishly as I did so. They gave me suspicious looks as they turned back to their expensive coffee and café food. Carolina began to quiet down then, the look of focus returning to her eyes. All at once she seemed to come back to reality, gasping with surprised agony as she clutched at her temples.

"Uh, what was that?" I asked as Carolina wiped some glistening sweat from her forehead. She cast her eyes down; looking at the coffee she'd spilled.

"It's a long story," Carolina replied quietly. "Do you remember my magic tricks as a kid?"

The question struck me as odd but I nodded yes. She went on.

"They were never fake, Mona. They were all real. Even as a child I knew there was something up with me. I mean, sure I was talented and rich and honestly a total knock out-"

"As well as agonizingly modest," I interrupted sarcastically, rolling my eyes. Carolina glared but went on.

"But I had these strange abilities and no way to explain them. I tried not to use them as I got older, hoping they'd just go away. But last summer I took a trip to Delos, a little Greek island by Mykonos where Apollo and Artemis were born. In Greek Mythology Apollo was the patron god of priestesses, among other things. These priestesses would predict the future and recite prophecies."

"Are you just going to give me a history lesson?" I asked Carolina, trying to loosen the tension. My old friend scowled at me but said nothing.

"It happened a week after I left Delos. I was finishing up an interview when I got a really weird feeling, like someone was coming into my brain, showing me things. When I seemed to regain control of my body I was on the floor with people standing above me. They told me I'd fainted and I got the rest of the week off. But when I passed out I saw a young woman being murdered in an alleyway next to a pawn shop in Los Angeles. A few days later I was watching the news and I saw a report about her death." Carolina's voice dropped to a whisper. "After that I tried to ignore the episodes, but they still came every once in a while. Most of the time I don't understand them or know who the people in them are. Frequently I've been getting quick flashes of owls and bats, but that's only been happening for a couple of months now. But then I started seeing people getting hurt, some of them murdered. I went to a fortuneteller and she told me I was a medium to some supernatural force that was showing me the future. I was seeing things that were going to happen, and what people were going to do if I didn't do something about it. I went to the police and got them to believe me I wasn't just some sick kid playing a twisted trick. I helped them save so many lives with my visions. But after trying to juggle my acting career with my volunteering at the police department for a year I became exhausted. That was about the time I started seeing you."

I gave a strange look to Carolina but she either didn't see it or ignored it, continuing on.

"I saw you, bloody and dying on the floor of an office. I saw you in dark alleyway, throwing down at hood or mask, then picking it up, crying. I saw you hugging a tall blonde woman." Carolina blushed slightly before saying "And just now I saw you kissing a guy with black hair. None of them made sense to me, but that was before I saw you on the pavement in front of Wayne Enterprises, dead." Carolina gulped a little bit as I opened my mouth in an "O" of shock, my eyes wide. "I knew I had to save you. So I came back to Gotham. And here I am." She gave a weak smile but looked like she wanted to throw up.

"So you saw me dead…" I said slowly as if repeating the chilling sentence would make it anymore easy for me to come to terms with. "Divine."

Carolina forced a shaky laugh and drank her coffee with had already started to go cold. She looked back up at me with worry in her eyes. She bit her lip, a nervous habit that she could never seem to break. "What reason could you possibly have to be on top of Wayne Enterprises? And who could possibly want to push you off?"

"Why do you automatically assume someone pushed me? I asked, attempting to ease her worry.

Carolina's eyes got as big as dinner plates. "You think you're going to jump?"

"No, no! That's not what I meant!" I had to force a laugh. "I meant what if I fell from the top. Or…" A sudden thought made my blood run cold. "From the sky…?"

"How could you fall from the sky?" Intense curiosity burned in Carolina's question. If only I hadn't let that last part slip, I wouldn't have anything to explain. But Carolina had shared her weird future/pre-cognitive abilities/premonitions secret with me; it was only fair I shared mine.

"Let's get outta here. I'll explain back at Selina's apartment. By the way, the blonde woman you saw me hugging in your vision? Probably her." I stood, draining my coffee in a single gulp and shrugged my arms into my jacket. A part of me wished that Bruce would suddenly call me on my communicator and I'd have to leave, making it to where I didn't have to tell Carolina my secret. I'd worked my ass off to keep Owlet's secret identity to myself; I didn't like the thought that all the hard work I put in could be undone in an instant in less than 10 words.

But my communicator never rang, not when we were leaving the café, or on the way to the apartment, or even when we stepped out of the elevator onto the 9th floor of the apartment building. I gave a deep sigh, letting us in with my house key, stepping aside so Carolina could come in. From what I could tell the place was empty, besides the cats of course. For the most part they kept to Selina's room, that's where they entered and exited the apartment anyway.

I sat down on the couch, gesturing for Carolina to sit in Selina's chair. "Make yourself at home. I know I have." As if on cue the fluffy brown cat jumped up next to me, curling up next to my left leg.

"So what did you have to tell me?" Carolina cocked an eyebrow, settling into the chair.

"I've also got somewhat of a secret to get off my chest. You remember how I told you about that vigilante that got Fincher caught? Her name is Owlet; sometimes people call her the Owl Girl. And well, I'm her. I'm Owlet." I couldn't help but wince though I kept eye contact with her as I spoke, hoping to gauge her reaction.

"I'm not surprised. Now the owls in my visions make sense. And when I saw you dead on the ground, you were in some sort of full body suit with a hood that looked like an owl. Don't ask me how I knew it was you, even I don't know that. But now all this makes sense." Carolina looked slightly relieved.

"Except for the whole me-dying part. Still pretty confused on that." I gave her a knowing look.

"That's true…" Carolina trailed off, looking sheepishly at the floor.

"So you said your powers are real," I started suddenly, making Carolina look up at me with the sudden statement and topic change. "What all can you do?"

"Mostly it's just the visions, but occasionally I get a glimpse of people's minds. Once I accidentally made my co-star say what I was thinking, and it happened to be something not so nice about a fellow co-star. And then there was a big, ensuing catfight ending with a few broken nails and some ripped out extensions." Carolina ran a hand through her hair but I knew she was just trying to hide her embarrassment.

"So, you're like a meta. Or technically just magical." I shrugged. "I'd have to ask Bats about you."

"Bats?"

"Oh, you mean you haven't figured out who Owlet works with? You've been away from Gotham far too long, Lina." I shook my head and grinned at her.

"I don't have a clue about what you're talking about." She gave me a totally blank look.

"Oh, you've got a lot to learn if you're gonna be staying in Gotham." I gave my old friend a mischievous smile with a matching twinkle in my eyes. "We need to go talk to Batman."

"Wait, you mean like the Batman?" Carolina's eyes seemed to bug out of her head.

"The one and only." I grinned full out, wincing as my smile made my still healing nose twinge in pain. "I might be new at this vigilante thing, but I've got connections. He really should analyze you or something; find out your full potential."

Carolina held up her hands as if surrendering. "I don't want to get to my 'full potential'. I don't want this superhero/meta-human life. I wanna be Carolina Nolan, as normal as I can get. I don't want these visions or these powers. I just wanna be a regular teenager."

I stood up angrily, upsetting the sleeping brown cat on my leg, suddenly furious at my best friend. "I don't even know why I bothered telling you my secret alter ego. If I'd known you'd react like this I wouldn't have even bothered." I glared deeply at her with my golden brown eyes, hoping I was getting my message across. "People beg for chances to change the world, for opportunities to come up where they can make a difference. And here you are, with powers handed to you on a silver platter, and you don't want to use them to help people? All you want to do is revert to the stereotypical, selfish human tendency of putting your own desires above the betterment of society. How far do you think America would've gotten if the Flash decided to only use his powers to win the Olympics? Or if Green Lantern had just plain refused to be the protector of Earth because he didn't want to?" I found myself wildly gesturing at this point, surprising even myself at how much I had to say on the topic. "And then you look at people like Batman, and Robin, and Green Arrow, and even me. We don't have powers, but we want to do the right thing. We risk our lives every night using only the skills we've come to acquire to help us in our battle against evil. Yet here you are, the only and most powerful meta-human I've ever met and you're willing to waste your powers just to be normal. You make me sick." I spat out the last line, unable to control myself. Sure, Carolina was my friend and I didn't really have a lot of authority to make these snap judgments on her since I hadn't seen her in 5 years, but there were only a few things in this world that I felt very strongly about, and being a hero, doing the right thing, was one of them.

My Bat-Communicator chose that moment to ring, and in my opinion, it was pretty shitty timing. I yanked the thing out of my pocket, flipping it open with a quick snap of my wrist. "What?" I demanded, far too hostile to be normal. On the small screen in front of me I saw Robin cock an eyebrow under his mask.

"Looks like someone isn't feeling the aster," Robin said with a cackle in his voice. "You busy? Batman wants the 3 of us to pay a visit to our favorite Police Commissioner."

I looked out one of the tiny windows in the apartment, seeing how dark it finally was outside. "We meeting at the station?"

"Actually the alley about a block away from it. Meet us there in 20 minutes?"

"I'll be there in 10," I said, finality etched into my response. I turned to look back at Carolina who was channeling the sad/ashamed/guilty puppy dog face very well. "I have to go," I told her coldly. With a sneer I added "Duty calls. You can leave if you think you can handle yourself alone on the streets at night or you can stay in here. I doubt Selina will be back anytime soon. Stay or show yourself out."

She chose the latter option, wordlessly getting up and leaving the apartment. A part of me felt bad for chewing her out but most of me knew she deserved it. Someone had to tell her the way things went, so why not me? I gave a little sigh, shaking my head before retreating to my room to make my first official change into Owlet for a month. Tonight would be the first time Gotham would see the new and improved me.


	14. A New Player On the Board

AN: I was frankly very disappointed with the last chapter, and I could sense that some of you were too. But I hope this chapter makes up for it. Oh, and the characters mentioned in here belong to DC Comics, besides Mona of course, but may not appear exactly as they do in whatever show you're used to seeing them in (for example, I used the Young Justice template for two characters in here but they don't have the same roles as they do in the show). If that makes sense, good. If not, well just ignore and READ! Reviewing would be nice. I almost cried when I only got three reviews last chapter :'( But anyways, enjoy.

A New Player On the Board

It took me 15 minutes to get the alley but I got there before the Dynamic Duo so it gave me some time alone with my thoughts. I paced angrily back and forth, stewing over all of what Carolina had told me, visions and opinions. She saw me dead, in the owl suit, meaning that if I stayed as the Owl Girl I was going to die. For some reason this didn't bother me as much as it could've, or perhaps should've. I had accepted the fact, now the only thing left to do was live it out. What a morbid thought, eh?

"Long time no see, Owlie," someone cackled behind me. I turned to glare at Robin as he dropped into the alley from his grappling hook. He landed silently and gracefully as the acrobat he'd grown up as.

"Technically speaking, yes," I replied shortly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Still snippy, I see," he commented, giving me a closed mouth grin. "Who peed in your granola?"

"Nobody peed in my granola," I growled back. "Let's just hurry up and leave. I haven't flown in a month and I wanna see if this suit actually works."

"You don't trust my suit?" A deep, slightly hoarse voice asked me. In an instant Batman was standing behind Robin, his cape falling gracefully around him.

"No offense, Bats, but you're not my parents. I don't trust you or your tech 100%."

"Then who do you trust 100%, Owlet?" Robin asked, not even waiting for my response before quickly jumping atop a nearby dumpster, flipping to an apartment's metal balcony before making his way to the roof. "What are you guys waiting for?" he called down.

"I don't trust anyone 100%," I said under my breath, beginning the climb to the top. Batman was the only one who heard me, giving a soft grunt of approval. I knew he'd understand my trust issues. Bruce had been through things worse than me yet stayed alive by being paranoid, suspicious, and over-cautious. I was finding it all too easy to take after him and his ways.

By the time we got to the top Robin was already standing on the edge, grappling gun ready in his hand. He tapped a foot impatiently with a scowl on his face. "Took you guys long enough."

"Don't sass me, Boy Wonder. It's been a weird day and if you aggravate me enough, well, let's just say I know where you live." I'd hoped this would've gotten at least a little smile from the Bats but he was as stoic as ever. Some people had tough crowds, but Batman was an impossible one.

"C'mon," the Batman said, stepping between us, taking his own grappling gun out and the shooting the line. In an instant he was swooping off the side of the building like a large, well bat, cutting through the night like a pro. A part of me wondered exactly how long he'd been doing this Dark Knight gig. He probably had years of experience hanging over my head, as well as Dick's. But I didn't mind. If you've got to learn new things, you might as well learn them from the best.

Robin followed Batman in a flash, hopping off the ledge with a wild cackle. It was odd to me how much he seemed to enjoy this line of work. But I supposed someone had to be a rare ray of sunshine in the crime fighting business of Gotham. It might as well be Dick Grayson.

I gave a deep breath before taking a running leap off the building, spreading my arms as I began my descent down. In no time I was gliding on the man-made wings, flying over Gotham. I couldn't help myself as I let out an elated cheer of pure joy and excitement. I could feel the adrenalin begin to flow as I tucked in my wings slightly to dive towards the ground before swooping back up. I banked sharply to my right, grinning as I just barely missed Robin as he swung from his grappling hook. My face seemed to be stuck in a permanent smile as if I'd been slipped some of the Joker's Smilex gas. As far as I was concerned there was no better feeling in the world than to be me right now, soaring over Gotham with synthetic wings.

All too soon we reached Police Headquarters, Batman and Robin gracefully touching down to the ground as I stumbled into a landing on the roof top. I'd never been good at hitting a landing softly, and adding that with my month of no practicing, I had no hope to look good tonight, especially compared to the Dynamic Duo. But that didn't matter right now. I was content as a klutzy fool on the ground, as long as I could have my freedom in the skies.

I waited for the two of them to come up to the roof, leaning over the edge to watch them. They made their way to the side of the building where Batman threw a Batarang grappling hook up, letting the jagged edge catch the side of the roof a few feet from where I rested my arms. He began to climb up as if it were second nature. Robin did the same though he was more fluid with his movements like he was still a circus performer and nighttime Gotham was his stage. If I'd been down there with him I knew I would've had to borrow Dick's line. I've been through my utility belt multiple times and I knew for a fact that I didn't have any of those grappling hook Batarangs. Why Batman decided to leave those out of my utility belt goody bag, I didn't know and probably never would.

Once Robin neared the top I held out my hand for him, helping him up the last few feet of the climb. Once he'd gotten to the top he adopted a strange expression as he turned to face me. "Uh, are you ok?"

"Yea, why shouldn't I be?" I replied, thoroughly confused.

"You've got blood all over your face," he told me, gesturing to the area under his nose and around his mouth.

I reached up, touching the dried and still free flowing blood from my nose. Luckily none had gotten onto my new suit though I was sure some had gotten onto my cowl as I was flying and onto my gloves as I tested my face.

"Your broken nose will still be delicate even after its supposedly all the way healed," Batman said quietly, standing next to the infamous Bat-signal. I remembered once when I was in 8th grade a few of my friends and I snuck onto the roof of the Police Department just to see the Bat-signal in person. Our timing was awful and we were caught by Commissioner Gordon himself. Gordon must've been coming to call on Batman. We were very lightly punished with a few hours of community service but it wasn't all that bad. "If you bump it or so something to upset it, it'll start to bleed out again. I'm sure the sudden changing of altitudes ruptures something inside."

"Fantastic," I grumbled. I grabbed Robin's cape, wiping the excess blood off my face. He gave a groan but didn't move. Once I'd felt I was ready enough to be presented to the world (and my nose had sufficiently stopped bleeding) I made my way over to Batman who was now standing with the Police Commissioner at the Bat-Signal. The aging man looked suspiciously at me but I held my ground, staring back at him through the white out lenses of my cowl. I hoped I looked like I wasn't some sort of pushover in a suit with wings. I couldn't tell what he was thinking but it didn't seem like he was going to tell Bats to throw me off the building anytime soon. For now I was safe.

"Nice to meet you, Owlet," Gordon said gruffly after a while. I nodded.

"You too, sir. I've heard lots of good things about Gotham's lone good cop." I cocked an eyebrow under my cowl. "I'm hoping they're all true."

"For every shred of a rumor on me there's got to be at least a dozen about you. Everyone seems to think you're some blood thirsty meta-human on a rampage for revenge." Gordon gave a slight chuckle but it lacked sincerity.

"What do you think I am?" I asked cautiously, trying not to let my voice betray my curiosity. From my peripheral vision I noticed Robin shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. It was obvious he was antsy.

"I think you're an inexperienced kid who's trying to make a difference."

"And you're ok with that?" I inquired.

"Would you stop being Owlet if I said no?"

"Not on your life, Commish," I replied, grinning. I turned to Batman, my voice inquisitive as I asked "Are we here just for a meet and greet or is there an actual reason?"

"We came to discuss your new tactics," Bats said darkly (well, you can argue he said it normally. Pretty much everything Bruce says while he's Batman is dark). His voice was rough to make us all pay our utmost attention to the Dark Knight. "The Commissioner needs to be aware of how you'll be operating and why."

"Something tells me I'm not going to like this…" Gordon muttered but we all pretended we didn't hear him. It would be easier that way.

"Owlet is going to continually act as a Gotham rogue so that she'll be able to infiltrate not only Mafia jobs, especially within the Falcone family, as well as the regular criminals and the costumed villains."

Gordon seemed speechless for a moment before he sputtered through his mustache, making him look like he was choking on it. "You're putting a teenage girl in the middle of Gotham's worst criminal circles?"

"Friends close and enemies closer type philosophy, Commissioner. Besides, I can handle myself. Have been long enough."

"Really? Then care to explain why you disappeared for a month?" The dubious tone in his voice was paired with an extreme confidence, making the overall effect of his question heavily laced with doubt, challenge, and sarcasm. I could feel my face grow red in embarrassment as I gritted my teeth, thankful for the cowl.

"Minor setback," I growled. "Besides, you can't stop me. You don't even know who I am." I tried to regain some of my pride, but picking up the metaphorical shattered pieces of it only seemed to hurt me more.

"I've got a pretty good idea. Thank goodness none of the Gotham News Stations have a clue, though. If any of them had a full brain to share, your identity would've hit the 5 o'clock news weeks ago."

I fumed with anger but bit most of it back. It didn't matter how frustrated the Commissioner was making me, I couldn't just go hit the guy as tempting as it was. So I fought back with the second best way: words. He apparently already knew my identity (probably with aid from Batman) so what could I really lose?

"I don't need Mona Ryder to be Owlet, Commish. I don't need a cape of a police force, either. All I need to fight crime in Gotham is a few well-placed rumors and a bad reputation. Both of which, with my history, are easily acquired. So with or without your blessing, I'm going to get inside those gang circles and when I do, and they fall and your team is able to charge them with their crimes, you'll remember exactly who you owe that victory to." I crossed my arms over my chest, giving a satisfied look to one of the only true good guys in Gotham City. Instead of looking shocked as I'd expected him to (I mean, c'mon, I just spit out my secret identity) he only looked impressed.

He turned to look at Batman. "Kid's got guys, I'll give her that."

"She inherited them from her parents," came his rough reply, bringing the ghost of a smile to my lips. If I wasn't mistaken I could hear some pride in his voice.

"So we done here? It's about time to go on patrol, Batman," Robin said anxiously, whining like a little kid though he was almost 16.

"I should be going as well," Commissioner Gordon sighed, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Mona. I look forward to adding you to our Rogues list." Gordon gave a grim smile before turning from us, walking away casually to the roof's entrance from the main building.

"You didn't have to get snippy with him," was all Robin told me before retreating to Batman's side, readying another grappling gun to take off.

"Gee, sorry. I've just got this thing about people underestimating me because I'm a girl." I rolled my eyes behind the cowl and through they didn't see it I knew the Dynamic Duo had sensed my impatience by the sarcasm saturated in my voice. "But I guess you guys better get going. If I'm seen with you two that'll totally harsh my street-cred."

Both of them replied with silence as if I'd never spoken in the first place. In an odd way the shunning stung me. I'd gotten used to it not only in public school but also at Gotham Academy. Wherever I went it seemed I was always the odd one out, too secluded to make friends, too smart to be labeled "retarded", but too defensive about everything to even hold a good conversation with someone. In Batman and Robin I'd found kindred souls, though. I'd found souls that were pushed from society, that didn't fit in. I'd found souls I could relate to and understand. I supposed that was why the wordless response struck me so hard though it was probably something Bruce had deemed necessary for my mission as a Rogue to be successful.

The bat and the bird were soon off the roof, slicing through the night with their capes fluttering heroically behind them. For a moment I debated whether or not I should one day adopt the cape look too. I instantly nixed it, though. It would mess with my flight pattern, get in the way when I fought, and make me look like a total poser. Needless to say, Owlet wasn't getting a cape anytime soon.

I turned from the seemingly endless night to look at the Bat-signal behind me. It was more than just a way to get ahold of Batman. More than just metal cut out in the shape of a bat. It was a symbol to the villains and evil do-ers of Gotham that justice would prevail in the end. It gave me pride to be on the good side of the law and to know that in my own unique way I was making a difference for the better of my city.

I knew there'd be no big time criminals milling about since the Bat-signal had been flashed, so I didn't even worry about trying to secure Owlet's roots in the felonious world of Gotham. So I did what a good kid does on a school night. I flew home, ate dinner, brush my teeth, and carefully hide my suit from sight, crawling into bed to fall into an always uneasy sleep.

* * *

><p>I had gotten used to a very specific routine of sleeping until about 5 in the morning, waking up and going for a quick hour long jog, eating breakfast then having a few hours of training with Selina. At noon I'd have lunch at Wayne Manor (Alfred is probably the best cook on the planet, especially for vegetarian food). After lunch I'd train with Bruce, breaking only to have dinner and get water. Bruce worked me to exhaustion into the late hours of the night to where I could barely stand. Most nights I'd just stay at Wayne Manor in an extra room on the first floor, near an exit. I had taken after Bruce's paranoia more than I'd expected. Since the concert where my fear of fire had been, for a lack of a better word, rekindled. As often as I could I stayed in rooms where escape would be relatively simple, but in cases like Selina's apartment I was forced to suck it up and make do with the fire escape situated outside my window.<p>

But the morning of my first day of school I slept in until 6 freaking 30. To all you normal teenagers out there I'm sure that seems early/average for you. I've been training with the goddamn Batman for the past week, and waking up at 6:30 completely threw me off. My internal clock was screaming at me that I'd overslept, yet Selina never came into my room to get me up. But eventually I was forced to face the fact that I did indeed have to go to school, no matter how much I really didn't want to.

I put on my Gotham Academy uniform, mentally preparing myself for my day at the prep school. And when I arrived I was ready for the strange stares and whispers about my injuries and extended absence. It was only expected. Gossip at a private school was like the currency. The more you gossiped, the more you knew, the richer you were. Coincidentally the most gossip savvy people were also the most well-set people. It would be in their nature to talk about me. So gossip I was prepared for, people actually talking to me, actually trying to get to know me? I doubt anything could've made me ready for that.

The first person who came up to me was Bette Kane, one of the more popular girls at Gotham Academy. After she asked me how I was doing she invited me to eat lunch with her, pretty much a one way ticket to popularity. In 7th grade I would've jumped at the chance but being liked wasn't my highest priority anymore. Better seemed to set the example for everyone else, though. Now they all wanted to talk to me, to help me with my books, asking if they could get me anything. In my few years of school not done by a tutor, I had never been universally liked but apparently when you nearly die and come back after a month you're a hero.

Or maybe it was because I was at the rich kid's school. It's common knowledge that people get mugged every day in Gotham, but the people who get mugged are usually the lower class. A lot of people don't like to talk about it but I knew my peers were worried because the rich paid up to the crime lords, getting immunity against the wrath of Gotham's criminals. But I was a part of the rich club of the city and I had been targeted, showing that the protection the millionaire's expected wasn't as definite as they liked to think it was.

So they did what any threatened group does in a time of crisis: they rallied together and protected their weak, in this case, me. They did this to (vainly) show that they weren't 100% helpless in the sea of crime that had washed over the city since the beginning of time. In short; a rich kid gets hurt and gains the support of their fellow rich kids. Weird how these things work, isn't it?

I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the attention. I was used to Owlet being in the news and the talk of people at school. But as Mona having all these people actually give a shit about me felt nice, like I wasn't just another rich kid lucky enough to get into this prestigious school. I was being integrated into the delicate and inclusive social life of a private school. For once I wasn't just being pushed to the side as an outsider, a reject, a freak. I let another smile grace my face as a nice and well-known boy from the soccer team walked me to my Biology class and told me to get well soon. Maybe being popular wasn't all that overrated.

The last time I recalled sitting in Biology class I was at a table by myself in the back with a great view of Gotham's skyline. But now there was a redhead with high cheekbones and bright blue eyes sitting at my desk. She looked to be about my same age and if I remembered from the Gotham Academy hierarchy, this was Barbara Gordon, daughter of the Police Commissioner I'd met last night, best friend to the most popular girl at GA, Bette Kane.

"Hi," I said quietly, trying not to strain my voice too hard. Even a month after the Fincher episode I was still sore, especially my vocal cord area. I set my bag on the floor, sitting down next to Barbara.

"Hi," she responded, a sort of awkward look on her face like she didn't know what else to say.

"You're the Commish's kid, right?" I asked, attempting to make the situation somehow better for both of us.

Barbara gave a short laugh and a grim smile. "Is it sad that's the first thing almost everyone says to me?"

I forced a laugh as well. "Gotham's famous for criminals, not conversationalists. Exhibit A: This dialogue." I grinned jokingly at her, a smile she easily returned, this time genuine.

"Is it obvious already? I'll have to work on my subtlety skills."

"Don't take it too personally. It's always so bothersome to come up with topics to talk about the first time you meet someone. You know, besides what their parents do."

"Hm, that's a good point." Barbara tapped her chin thoughtfully as the rest of the class filtered in. oddly enough the only person who seemed to be missing from the class was the pig-headed teacher himself, Professor Caldwin. "Guess we'll just have to work harder on this talking thing."

"Here, let's start over," I proposed, holding out my right hand. My uniform shirt slid up a bit to show a thick scar peeking out a few inches, the rest of it disappearing under the starched white material. "Hi, I'm Mona Ryder. It's nice to meet you."

Barbara grinned. "I'm Barbara Gordon." She shook my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. But if you don't mind me asking, where did you get that scar from?" She nodded to the obvious mark peeking out from under my shirt.

"Oh, that…" I said sheepishly. "Well, I was-"

"You'll have enough time to tell Miss Gordon how you attracted trouble like a magnet after class, Miss Ryder." Caldwin stepped into the classroom looking half-asleep and fully annoyed.

"I'd have been glad to be talking about Biology instead of my injuries but our teacher was late almost 10 minutes past the bell," I replied innocently, making a few of my peers snicker under their breath at my snarky response.

"Watch your tongue, Ryder," Caldwin snapped, yanking his coat off and throwing it over the back of his chair.

"I'm terribly sorry, Professor. But I'm so eager to learn some Biology after being away for a month because I was beaten within an inch of my life." I had no idea where smartass Mona was coming from, but a part of me suspected she was actually part Owlet. One thing I was sure of was that giving Caldwin a piece of my mind felt releasing somehow. As if I was getting something off my chest. I allowed myself a smirk. It felt good to be roguish. After all, I was just getting into the role I'd have to play as Owlet.

Caldwin turned beet red at having me make him look like a jerky fool in front of the whole class but he gave no retort, turning instead to begin the lesson on genetics. Beside me Barbara was trying to hold in her laughter, quickly turning the same shade as her hair.

After I'd inadvertently put Caldwin in his place, Biology passed relatively quickly, especially with me and Barbara passing notes for most of it. She told me a little bit about her, and I also learned that a few weeks ago she'd been transferred into Biology Honors because her last class had been far too simple. I couldn't help but be happy because it seemed I'd found a new friend in Barbara. After Bio, Writing and Algebra passed rather quickly as well, letting me finally get to my favorite hour of the day.

"Mona!" Ms. Dee greeted, pumping my arm enthusiastically. I gave her a wide grin. "I'm so glad you're back!"

"It's good to be back, Ms. Dee. Just needed some time to recuperate."

"I heard you took an awful beating. It was all over the news for days." She gave me an apologetic and almost sympathetic look.

"I'm better now. And truthfully I missed this class the most." I gave the tired teacher a cheeky grin before going inside the room and taking my normal seat. Soon Dick sat next to me, panting as if he'd run from his third hour all the way here. But class began as if it were any other normal day.

"Happy Monday, everyone!" Ms. Dee chirped, forcing her chipper attitude through her weary core. It was rather valiant of her to get up in front of a class of high school students and teach history of all things even when she was exhausted and, quite honestly and obviously, depressed. That was just my opinion, though.

"What have you got for us today?" asked a boy in the front. He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk.

"Breaking news, actually." Dee got a slightly mischievous glint in her eyes as she switched on the projector. On the screen was a YouTube video titled "Female Vigilante Sweeping Streets of Gotham." I felt my eyebrows rise up into my bangs. As smoothly as I could I turned to gauge Dick's reaction. He didn't look surprised like I was sure I did. He only looked slightly annoyed with his eyebrows knitted together and his lips pursed. How could there be another vigilante?

Dee played the video, showing a very skilled gymnast, jumping from flagpoles to streetlamps, doing expert flips in mid-air before landing in front of a group of muggers going after an elderly woman. We could see the girl clearly now as she was bathed in the light of a close streetlamp. She wore a Batman Halloween costume, excluding the plastic utility belt. We could see the girl talk to the criminals but the audio wasn't good enough to hear what she'd said. Apparently the villains didn't like it because one lunged at her head, grabbing the back of her cowl as well as the bottom of her cape. She pulled away quickly, aiming a precise kick at the mugger behind her. In the process however both parts of her costume he'd had a hold on ripped, exposing bright red hair that spilled out the bottom of her cowl. However the girl continued to fight as if nothing had happened. It was easy to tell she was inexperienced though she made up for it by being skilled.

This "Batgirl" person methodically attacked the group, going after the brawniest of the men, who was obviously the leader, before any of the rest. She ducked down low as he threw a punch, sweeping his feet out from under him with a single leg. He hit the ground hard where she was able to get a good kick in to his stomach, stunning and wounding him at once. Two more men flew at her, one behind the other. The girl grinned, apparently about to show them the fatal flaw in their formation I'd already noticed. Bracing herself against the brick wall of a clock business behind her, she pushed off on the front man's chest, knocking him into the second man. They toppled into the street, landing precisely on a weakened sewer grate that gave away just as 400 pounds of dead weight crashed into it. They were immediately stuck without a way out. The vigilante finally turned to the final man who had been smart enough to take out his gun, though he was holding it straight in front of him, trembling as he did so. I half expected the girl to take out a Batarang and knock it from his hand, but since she wasn't affiliated with Batman, she didn't have his gadgets. I smirked to myself, wondering how she was going to get herself out of this jam.

"Batgirl" backed up a little bit before launching herself at the man, throwing herself into a propelling round off that the man was obviously not expecting. She kicked the gun out of his hand before lithely landing and sending a strong uppercut to his jaw. The crook fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes and the girl stood among them, a satisfied smile on her face as the terrified woman tried to get out of the area as fast as possible. My eyes flickered to the time keeper in the bottom right hand corner of the video, seeing that this girl had taken out 5 fully grown, strong adult men in 3 minutes. At the cemetery a month or so ago it'd taken me twice as long to take down 3. Without meaning to, I glared at the grin as this "Batgirl" person turned to wave and smile at whoever had taken the video before running off into the night, the short, jagged remainder of her cape fluttering behind her as she ran.


	15. Basketball and Disappointment

AN: I love this chapter, I'm not gonna lie. I like writing this side of Owlet, one no one's really seen before, one I hadn't actually planned for her to have. Originally Part Two was going to follow a whole different plot line. Owlet was supposed to work with Batman and Robin and slowly get more vicious as time went on, but we all know that's not the story line here. The reason it got changed? Reviews from readers like you! So keep in mind if you wanna see something, it'll probably get in there. So yea, in this chapter I kinda modeled Owlet roughly after Late Jason Todd Robin/Red Hood, so if you see similarities that's probably why. Please Read and Review, I love hearing from you guys :D

Basketball and Disappointment

There's just something about hearing someone scream and knowing you were the cause that gives you a twisted sense of satisfaction. Whether it be a pranking incident gone right or making someone watch a scary movie that freaks them out, making someone scream in utter terror and abandon gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. However, when you're dressed as a giant creature of the night and you suddenly pop up in front of someone after being presumed dead for a month, you learn a very new way to strike fear into someone's heart. And I was quickly finding out this method was way more fun than those previously mentioned.

But in order for you to not judge me as some sort of sadistic freak in an owl costume, I supposed I should explain my situation. The place: an old, dingy alley in the Narrows, a block away from the Warehouse District. The setting: about 15 minutes to 3 am on a chilly, Mid-February Wednesday morning. The situation: Owlet had cornered a single henchmen from a drug dealing operation and was currently "interrogating" (read: "torturing with words") as he cowered away from the assumed-to-be-vigilante. I gave the slime ball a wicked smile, scaring the man even more though I was only a 5'2", 15 year old girl.

"Now, we're gonna try this again," I said slowly, over-enunciating my words as if I were dealing with a 5 year old. "Who are you working for and where can I find him?" My hand shot out to grab the man roughly at the collar, forcing him to stand though his knees wanted to crumple beneath him.

"I-I won't tell you!" he yelped as I threw him down to the disgusting floor of the alley. In an instant I held a two-pronged tazer gun aimed down at him.

"It's easy to tell you're a heavy drug user. Too much voltage from this and your body won't be able to handle all the abuse you and I have put into it. In short, you'll be a dead drug user. Better start talking. I'm a bit trigger happy."

"No!" he cried out, holding up a hand in surrender. "I'm working for a drug lord right under Falcone. He distributes the load throughout the Narrows and south Gotham. There's a shipment coming in tonight by boat, Dock 6! The drugs were gonna be stored in Warehouse 27." The information spilled out of the man almost too easily but I decided to think about that later. Now I had to worry about the task at hand, which happened to not be stopping a drug shipment, but taking part in it.

I put a dominant foot on the man's chest, bending my knee as I leaned over. He seemed to have a much harder time breathing though I'd barely applied any of my weight. I glared through my cowl. "I need a name."

"I've told you all I know! I swear to God!"

"Swear to me," I growled, bringing the tazer closer to his face. "Give me a name."

"We don't know his real name," the man was now full out sobbing, quite a pathetic sight, really. "He only uses a nickname."

"So give it to me." I pressed the tazer into his cheek, my gloved finger ready at the trigger.

"The Cleaner," he gasped between sobs. "He calls himself the Cleaner."

"See. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" I leaned back, putting the tazer gun back onto my utility belt, towering over the man.

"You're-you're not gonna kill me?" he asked, apparently shocked.

"Not today, at least. But I can't have you squealing on me." With a well-placed kick to his temple, the man was out within an instant. I kneeled down and rifled through his pockets.

"This is so gross," I muttered, finding a possibly used condom in the man's pocket as I stooped down amongst the filth of the alley. "Get on your knees if you wanna reach the top, Ryder." My pep talk did little to enthuse me but my spirits were lifted when I found a pair of keys, a wallet with lots of identification (most of them fake) and a cell phone. Something told me these would come in handy later, so I slipped them into a pouch on my utility belt. I made my way from the alley immediately, running to its mouth. I had no time to lose if I wanted to make it to the drug trade before it was over.

I took to the skies with a strong jump, propelled by my wings. In seconds I was soaring above Gotham, playing over the conversation between me and the crony again in my head. Dock 6, Warehouse 27, operation run by some guy who calls himself "The Cleaner". It might've just been me, but the name sounded more like a door to door salesman than a drug lord under Falcone. It was completely possible the insect I'd interrogated was lying to me, but he was my only lead to get into the drug trade, and I wasn't about to miss a chance that might prove to be a golden opportunity.

It only took me a few minutes to get from the outer edge of the Narrows to Dock 6, but I knew if I'd been walking it would've taken me at least half an hour and time was of the essence tonight. From my bird's eye view (Hahaha, do you get it? Cuz I'm an owl? Oh, puns) I could see a ship being unloaded under the cover of the night and I knew my intel had at least been slightly accurate. I made my descent slowly so I wouldn't attract any unwanted attention, landing behind a large, parked semi close to where the drugs were being loaded into some vans.

Originally I'd planned to approach the drug lord to strike up a deal while the shipment was still in the process, but it appeared my timing was inopportune. The group had just about finished loading the drugs. It would be better just to follow them to Warehouse 27 and intercept the shipment there so I could carry out the rest of my plan. I nodded decisively to myself, waiting for the vans to start moving before I took to the air once more, but this time to follow them.

The flight was shorter this time, a quick drive down the street for the drug filled vans. They parked in the darkness , getting out and wielding their large funs as they guarded the trucks. It was a good thing I wasn't going after the drugs, I'd have had no chance in hell to get to them. The guards looked around nervously, fingers twitching on the triggers of their guns. They were waiting for someone, and they were getting anxious.

"Clark said he'd be here," one man muttered as he shook from fear and cold. I took out the wallet I'd stolen from the man, seeing the ID card placed on top of them all. It bore the man's picture along with the name "Steven Clark". It all clicked then. The men were waiting for Clark to come with the keys to open Warehouse 27 to store the drugs. But Clark wasn't coming with those necessary keys and they were getting antsy.

"Where the fuck is he?" another man growled, slinging his gun over his shoulder, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.

A sleek black car pulled up, practically invisible in the lightless night. All of the cronies immediately stiffened, all on alert at the car's arrival. It was glaringly obvious this was the man I was looking for: The Cleaner. A few moments of anxious silence passed before a tall man dressed in a pinstripe suit stepped from the car. He couldn't have been more than 25 years old, with an organized chaos of moonlight colored blonde hair and dark brown, almost black eyes. He wore a slight grin as he looked over the frightened men, tossing a hacky sack between his hands.

"So," the young man called out in the still night air. "Why haven't the packages been loaded into the building?" The Cleaner cocked an eyebrow, turning to the man closest to him.

"Um, uh…" he stammered, momentarily lost for words. "Clark had the keys and he hasn't arrived yet."

"Well, where is he?" The drug lord squeezed the hacky sack tight in his left hand, causing the gunman to flinch in fear. "Somebody call him."

Immediately a kid who could've only been 17, though he was extremely brawny, pulled a phone from his pocket, hitting a speed dial and pressing the phone to his ear. The phone in my utility belt began to ring out though only the crony closest to me could hear it. Along, of course with my luck, the Cleaner himself.

"Clark?" the hired help called out. The phone continued to ring, echoing eerily in the Warehouse District of Gotham. "Man, you there?"

"Clark isn't here right now," I replied quietly between the rings of the phone. I stepped from the shadows, slowly taking out the extendable bo staff just in case I'd need it. "But I'm willing to take a message for him if you'd like."

The henchman didn't even wait for a word from the Cleaner before opening fire on me with his small scale machine gun. But I'd anticipated his move, jumping out of the way to safety a few feet to my left. I landed in a crouched position, the phone finally going to voicemail as I pounced on the man shooting at me. He didn't see me coming, or the 6 inch metal pole being slammed into his nose for that matter. He let out a loud shriek of pain, dropping the gun to cradle his face. I took advantage of his momentary distraction, quickly extending the bo staff and striking him in the back of the knees. He went down quicker than I could've imagined and didn't even attempt to get back up. I guess they just didn't make henchmen like they used to.

By now everyone had realized Clark wasn't coming and that one of their own had been taken out by a small figure shrouded in grey. Before I could react I was surrounded on all sides, guns pointed at me and ready to shoot whenever the order was given.

But as I walked up to the Cleaner, I wasn't afraid, knowing they wouldn't shoot until their boss gave them the signal. And I knew the drug lord would be intrigued. He'd wait for an explanation before he killed me. Some crime lords were cool like that. Others would shoot your head off if you sneezed awkwardly (cough cough, Black Mask, cough). I guess that's just Gotham for you.

The Cleaner looked me up and down, gently rolling the hacky sack between his palms. A large grin broke out on his face, confusing his cronies. He gave a short laugh, tossing the hacky sack to me when I wasn't quite expecting it. My arm moved on its own accord, using the bo staff to hit it back to him. He caught it with an even bigger smile, tucking the hacky sack into his pants pocket.

"So the legendary Owlet is back, and she's picked my operation to get into."

"Wait, Boss," said one of his hired helps. "I thought she was here to stop us."

"Don't you think the cops would've been here by now?" The Cleaner rolled his eyes at the henchman.

"Oh, right…" The man looked sheepish as he was reprimanded by a gun that was probably younger than him. "Then what's she doing here?"

"I'm here to strike a deal. I do want in on this operation." My voice was airily polite but with a demanding undertone. "And I really think you should seriously consider letting me in."

"Oh, and why is that?" The Cleaner asked, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"Because," I started, plucking the set of keys from my utility belt. "I literally hold the keys to making this little deal possible."

"Where did you get those?" the drug lord cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Our mutual friend Clark decided to help me get into the business. I'd imagine he's not going to be around to help you guys for a while." I could feel an evil smirk claw its way onto my face. This was going to be more fun than I could've ever imagined.

"Interesting…" The Cleaner said. "Well, if you're this enthusiastic about getting into the drug trading business, who am I to stop you?"

Multiple exclamations of confusion and shock echoed throughout the circle of gunmen. Apparently they found it very hard to believe that their beloved Boss could induct someone into their line of work so quickly. To be honest, I was suspicious as well, but I had to keep playing the part of vigilante turned criminal if I didn't want my new "employer" to get wise.

"But I have to ask you something first." Everyone went silent as the Cleaner spoke up once more. "How am I supposed to trust you when you've got tech from the Batman?"

I almost exhaled in relief at his question. I'd expected something much harder to answer, like "What's your secret identity?" or "How far are you willing to go to prove your allegiance?" I gave the Cleaner a smug smile before responding. "Ran into the Boy Wonder one night. He must've had a pretty rough day because he wanted to pick a fight with little 'ole me." I shrugged my shoulders, collapsing the bo staff and twirling it between my fingers. "So I gave him the fight he was looking for, he just didn't expect me to kick his ass. I took his utility belt and I've been using it ever since."

The Cleaner looked dubious. "You took down Batman's little protégé? Who could've trained you to do that?"

"Catwoman." It helped I didn't exactly have to lie here, mostly adding to the credibility I'd need if I wanted to gain his trust.

"It shows," was all he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Now I have a few questions for you."

"Go right ahead."

"First, what's my pay? Because if you want me to keep quiet about this operation I'll need to be payed pretty well. And, you know, I am the only one with access to the keys." I gave the Cleaner an evil smile, playing my part a little too well.

"How's 500 a week? Will that keep you quiet enough?"

"It'll have to suffice. And my second question: What kind of a name is 'The Cleaner'?"

The man smiled at me, sauntering forward into the dim moonlight that had just begun to peek out from the clouds. "Well, it was given to me because of a reputation I'd accumulated. An old friend once said I'd always make a clean, fair deal, but if you double cross me I'll clean you out faster than you can imagine." The man gave me a pointed look with his dark eyes. "That goes for 14 year old girls as well."

"I'm 16," I said shortly, turning from the Cleaner and pushing past two of his men to get to the large, locked doors of Warehouse 27, wordlessly unlocking the doors to the drug's hiding place. Saying I was 16 wasn't all that much of a stretch anyway. My birthday was in a little over a month (March 27, in case you were curious). I'd been 16 soon enough, considering it was already halfway through February.

_Actually, _I thought as the Cleaner order his men to begin the unloading process, _in this line of work I might not live to make it that old._

* * *

><p>"Good evening, ladies and gentleman of Gotham City, I'm Elena Hall bringing you tonight's latest story. A daring attempted murder was stopped today by Gotham's new favorite heroine, Batgirl! The teenaged vigilante swooped in just in time to save Gotham socialite Alexandra Bolton from the wrath of the dastardly Penguin. The Penguin in Police custody while the Boltons arrange for a court case against him. As always, before anyone can thank this God-sent heroine, she disappears without a trace!"<p>

I punched the off button on the remote, scowling as I threw it back onto the couch. It narrowly missed an angry looking tabby who hissed at me in anger. The cat had a large chunk of its ear missing, obviously identifying it as a street cat that was only here to take a quick break. It was probably rabid, no doubt feral, and would probably kill me in a fight. No one wanted to get on the wrong side of that cat.

"They've all completely forgotten about Owlet. And they keep praising Batgirl like she's the next Messiah," I growled, pacing anxiously in the living room of Selina's apartment.

"Well, they did say she was 'God-sent'," Dick pointed out airily, cautiously petting my brown cat as it jumped onto the large arm-chair he was sitting in. I pitched a Batglare at him but he seemed unfazed. He probably got worse ones from Batman. "But look at the big picture, Mona. Owlet's been gone for a month; the Media was dying for some news after the whole Fincher scandal. It's not their fault that they blew up this Batgirl thing to enormous proportions."

"Yes it is!" I argued. "And how can you be so relaxed about all this?"

"You probably don't remember this, but a few years ago there were a couple of people who were parading around as Batwoman and Bat-Girl." Dick seemed to shudder at the memory. "Bat-Girl was like a mega Robin fan; I swear she was obsessed with me. Bats and I refused to associate ourselves with them and after a while Bat-Girl just kind of disappeared. Batwoman still operates in Blüdhaven, but she mostly keeps to herself. I'm pretty sure this Batgirl will get tired of the crime fighting routine and give up after a while, too."

"What does Bruce think about all of this?"

"He's doing that quietly pissed off thing." Dick shrugged but seemed uneasy. It wasn't hard to see why. Bruce was his father now, and looking up to someone who ignored you, whether they meant to or not, was a hard thing to do. And even though Dick was a teenager, being ignored while Bruce was in his broody-Batman mode probably hurt a lot.

"Hey," I said quietly, locking eyes with him as he looked up. "You ok?" It pained me to see Dick so dejected like this. He had been through so much already. It didn't seem right for him to have to deal with Bruce being a less than stellar father.

"Yea, I'm fine." He broke our eye contact to look down at his hands. "Just stresses you out, you know?"

And even though I didn't really know what it was like to feel pushed aside by someone you knew cared about you, I agreed. My best friend was hurting and he needed support. At this point that was all I could give him. I only hoped it'd be enough. But with someone like Dick whose default was an easy going cheerfulness, it was hard to tell when they were faking it.

"You know what?" I said abruptly, causing him to look up at me with his cerulean eyes. "It's been an entire month and you still haven't taken me on that date you promised me."

A grin slipped onto Dick's face as he stood up, brushing the brown cat away softly, grabbing his jacket from the chair's arm. "Well, then we've got no time to waste. Grab your jacket and follow me."

"Now you sound like Peter Pan," I told him, rolling my eyes as I shrugged into my coat. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there," he said, taking me by the hand, tugging me from the apartment. I swear this boy had more mood swings than a bipolar patient down at Arkham.

Dick led me downstairs outside the apartment building to where his motorcycle was waiting. It was a lot less flashy than the bike he used as Robin, but still obviously expensive and well maintained. He got on, handing me a helmet before putting on his own.

"This can't be legal," I stated. "You're not even 16 yet." I got on the motorcycle anyway.

"Being me comes with its perks, including a small amount of diplomatic immunity without having to be from another country. Does that make sense?"

"So you're saying the Police waive the law because you're Wayne's ward?"

"Technically, yes."

"Tell me then, how does that make you any better than other criminals?"

"Because I'm the Boy Wonder, duh." And even though he couldn't see me I rolled my eyes for my own benefit. I hung onto him tightly around his middle as he revved up the engine, shooting down the street.

"Just out of morbid curiosity, when do you turn 16?" I asked as he took a corner without even bothering to slow down at the intersection. I let out a yelp, clinging onto him tighter as I felt him laugh.

"About a month from now, March 21st."

"Hey, we're practically twins, I'm March 27th."

"I'm still older."

"Oh, shove it, Boy Blunder." He gave another short laugh, speeding through Gotham like any other regular hooligan. "Slow down! You're going to get a ticket."

"They have to catch me for that. Besides, we're almost there."

"And where exactly is there?"

"Here." Dick stopped the bike abruptly, causing me to smash into him with my leftover momentum. He'd been prepared for the stop but had decided not to warn me, probably to laugh once again at my expense. But he didn't this time, only idling the bike long enough for me to see where we were. It was the Gotham Sports Center and from the looks of it there was a huge game going on tonight against the Gotham Wolves and the Metropolis Blue Hens. The parking lot was packed but Dick drove around the side of the stadium to a private entrance, parking his bike among the fancy sports cars before dismounting and walking over to a seemingly locked door. But he quickly fixed that problem with a swipe from a card (which I hadn't even seen him get out) that identified him as Dick Grayson. The door lock disengaged and Dick held it open for me before taking the lead down a long, concrete tunnel.

"Where does this lead?" I asked him as I followed like a lost duck.

"To some stairs that go to Bruce's private box. Don't worry, I've got tickets." He fished them out of his pocket before giving me a devilish smile.

"You had this whole thing planned, didn't you?"

"Working with Bruce has taught me to always be prepared. Besides, I don't see any reason you could complain about this. We can talk about whatever we want in the box, it'll be just you and me in there."

"Good thing we didn't actually come to watch the game."

"Why? I mean, I know both teams suck, but what's your reason?"

"I don't even know how to watch basketball!" This granted me a fleeting laugh from Dick as we got to the stairs he'd previously mentioned. At the top stood a ticket-taker in a fancy suit who smiled pleasantly at us before leading the way to our (Well, Bruce's) private box. The entire wall facing the court was entirely windows though the room also had a lounge area with couches and chairs that had a big screen tv playing the game on it as well. On the opposite side of the room there was a bar and a mini-fridge, both of them probably well stocked. Once the door had closed behind us Dick flopped onto the couch more gracefully than I thought anyone ever could, quickly switching the tv off with a small remote he'd found.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" he asked as I sat on the chair opposite of him.

"You're the one who had this all planned out. There was obviously something you wanted to get off your chest, so spill it. I'm all ears, Boy Blunder." I gave him a small, shy smile. In the beginning when Owlet called him Boy Blunder it was always hurtful, she'd wanted to take his confidence down a notch by way of humiliation. But now whenever I called him that I meant it as a term of endearment, like a little inside joke between the two of us.

"Well, truthfully, I wanted to talk about us…" he said nervously, trailing off. He fidgeted with him hands, twiddling his thumbs as he sat unnaturally straight on the sofa.

"There's nothing stopping you," I said eagerly, leaning forward, excited to hear what he was going to say. This was finally it. Dick was going to ask me to actually be his; the two of us were actually going to be something more than just friends with benefits. We were going to be together after dancing around the subject for so long. This maddening waiting for him to make it legitimate was going to end; we'd both finally realized that the momentum we'd accumulated from the start was too strong to stop. And there was nothing in the world I wanted more at the moment.

"Well, the thing is," he began, seemingly at a loss for words. His azure eyes darted around the room, making eye contact with just about everything but me. "I don't think it's the best idea for us to get serious right now. I mean, we're young, we don't wanna be tied down by feelings that we're not even sure of. And in a business like we're in, caring too deeply about anyone is dangerous. And besides, what would Bruce think? He probably wouldn't even allow it, so what's the point in trying to make anything of it at all, you know?"

My blood froze like ice in my veins as if my heart and circulatory system had been doused in liquid nitrogen. For a long while I bet my brain went dead, hell I bet my whole body went dead. He was telling me he didn't feel the same way. Dick didn't want me. Dick didn't want anything to do with me. Dick was being practical, pragmatic, and logical in the face of our feelings. Or at least, my feelings. I didn't think I'd be able to speak ever again, but somehow my mouth found a way to work, my lips forming the words and my vocal cords allowing my body to say them.

"Yea, that totally makes sense. You're right; it was stupid to think anything was even there in the first place." I could swear to you right now there wasn't anything I'd ever said that I disagreed with more than the words that had just tumbled from my mouth. I didn't think what we had was nothing. I didn't think that we could just pretend they weren't there and they would go away. At least, I knew mine wouldn't, but I couldn't speak for the boy in front of me. "Hey, I just remembered I promised to call someone, do you know where there's a phone close by?"

"Yea, there's a sort of lobby thing straight down the hall if you go right." He gestured casually, leaning back into the sofa as if glad he'd gotten what he'd told me off his chest.

"Thanks." I didn't give more than a goodbye than that before practically running from the box to where he'd directed me. I could feel tears pricking in my eyes but I refused to let them fall. Not here. It was too public. People would stare. But I didn't give a shit at that moment. The boy I had accidentally fallen head of heels for, who'd saved me in so many different ways, pretty much just dumped me (Shut up, I know we were never dating. I'm just at a loss for a better term here, ok?).

I finally got to the lobby, thankfully finding it empty. It was a smaller room than the observation box and only had a few windows to view the game out of, but it had a phone and no Dick Grayson, which was all I could ask for at the moment. I felt a single tear fall down my cheek as I picked up the phone, dialing a number I'd known by heart for years. The line began to ring but I couldn't hold the tears in any longer. Just as the person on the other line picked up I was full out sobbing.

"Hello?" asked a voice I'd know anywhere.

"C-can you come get me?" I asked between sobs. Like a good friend would, they promised without hesitation. I told them where to pick me up and was assured they'd be there in a few minutes. By the time I hung up I was already feeling better, but I knew if anyone could make me stop crying it was the person I'd called.

So when I waited outside the front of Gotham Stadium, my face tear streaked, my nose red from crying and being cold, and violent shiver ripping through me every so often, the only sight that comforted me was a glossy black car pulling up to the curb. The door opened to show the concerned face of my best friend who scooted over on the seat to give me room. Once in the car I couldn't hold any of it back as my sobs started up once again.

"He-he just-!" Another wail cut me off as I was buried into a hug from the only person I could really trust right now. The only person I'd been able to trust since childhood who had been there for me as much as she could. One of the only people I'd told my secret to. Carolina Nolan.

"It's gonna be ok, Mona," she soothed, quietly telling her driver to take us to her house. "Boys are all idiots, and when you get all your crying out and have some butter pecan ice cream you're gonna tell me all about it, ok?"

I could only nod at this point. Butter pecan had always been my favorite ice cream and only Carolina had known that. Something in the back of my mind told me I was lucky to have a friend like Carolina who not only remembered what made me feel better after a crushing loss, but also forgave me after being a total bitch to her.

_Please, God,_ I prayed. _If you're up there, please listen to me. I've lost my parents, myself, and now Dick. Please don't let me lose Carolina. She's all I've got left in this world, and without her I don't think I can go on…_


	16. Somewhere In Between

AN: Heyyyy :D Glad you guys liked chapter 15, the beginning was fun to write, but I'll admit I sorta half-assed it at the end. But! I've got an excellent chapter here, setting you up for 17 which is gonna be HELLA AWESOME! I digress… So yea, I gotta apologize to knightmare because they specifically asked for Owlet to put stealth in her suit like 4 chapters ago and I totally forgot, so I'm so sorry about that, but it's in here, along with another treat and some more sadistic Owlet (because I know some of you really got a kick outta that) :D There's a reason there's not any Robin in this chapter, and that's because I can't bear to write anything sad about liking a guy because the boy that I've had a major crush on for 3 FREAKING YEARS finally asked me to be his girlfriend, so yea XD Super pumped so I gifted you guys with a chapter. And I know there's lots of people who get alerts for this but never review, so I'll ask you this: WHY? That's all for now. Please enjoy this chapter and review! It makes me feel all bubbly inside!

Somewhere In Between

I think what really hurt the most about Dick's rejection was how he came to school Friday morning and acted like everything was completely fine between us. As if he hadn't just smashed the last real bit of humanity in me. As if he hadn't just crushed my heart under his expensive Italian loafers. As if his telling me that he didn't care for me was just routine. He was living up to Bruce Wayne's playboy expectations and I hated every minute of it. Of course, who was I to tell him that? No one. I was just Mona Ryder, just a meaning-less friend, just another moon eyed girl that sat next to Dick in one of his classes. So I kept my mouth shut, an extremely hard task if you're someone like me. I gave Dick the cold shoulder, didn't engage in conversations, didn't give more than one word replies, and ignored the kid for the entire day. And what was the result? He acted like he didn't even notice.

"I swear," I grumbled to Carolina as I slammed the door to her parent's chauffeured car. After yesterday she'd offered to drive me home once school let out. She told me it was for us to spend more quality time but I knew she didn't want me blowing my cover as Owlet by going out and kicking ass out of costume because of pent up rage. Friends know you so well. "I could punch him in the face and he either wouldn't notice or wouldn't care."

"Calm down, Mona. Here." She handed me a can of Dr Pepper, a favorite of mine when we were growing up. Between Selina's training, Bruce's training, and the general keeping myself alive on the streets, I hadn't had much time for junk food. Yet I still took the soda, downing half the can before my throat began to burn with the carbonation. Now I know how Eve felt.

"See anything inspirational?" I asked, coughing at the irritation I'd inadvertently given myself.

"Yup. I saw a happy ending between you and Richard."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "His name is Dick. And do you happen to get time frames on those visions?"

"Approximate ones. They're never all that specific, but they're always somewhere in the ballpark." Carolina sipped her own soda, talking about this amazing power as if it were completely normal.

"And?" I asked a bit more rudely than I really had the right to. I'd never formally apologized for yelling at her about not using her powers for good, but all seemed to be forgiven anyways. Guess that's what friends are for.

"Should happen sometimes next week, Friday or Saturday, I think."

"And what exactly happens?" I pried, swinging my messenger bag onto the floor of the car.

"Remember the vision I had when we were getting coffee?"

"Vaguely." All I really remembered was her saying something about a black haired boy and me instantly thinking about Dick.

"Well, it was kind of a continuation of that."

"So I take it you're not gonna give me any specifics?" I deadpanned, draining the soda in a few more drinks.

Carolina gave me a devilish grin. "Now what would be the fun in that?" I groaned as I overdramatically slumped down in the car's seat. "But I can tell you that your black haired boy will be in his other persona. I'm sure you know what I mean." My mouth dropped open as I gaped at Carolina, shock written all over my face.

"How in the world could you possibly know anything about that?" I hissed, paranoid the driver might overhear. I hadn't spoken a word to her about the identities of Batman, Robin or Catwoman out of respect to them all (though my respect for a certain Boy Wonder was quickly dwindling).

"Relax, Mona Lisa. I may be a pretty face, but I've got a brain under these gorgeous blonde curls, too." For good measure she flipped her hair with what she thought was a dazzling smile, though it only looked fake to me.

"Oh, sure. Detective Carolina figured it out all by herself," I scoffed.

"You're just jealous you're not a Meta."

"You take that back! I'm a better anti-hero than you'll ever be!" Though we were arguing (all in good fun, of course) I kept my voice down, not sure of how much the driver knew and was hearing.

"Wanna bet?" The challenged was evident in Lina's voice as she smirked at me.

"What happened to wanting to be normal?" I shot back, cocking an eyebrow.

"Normal is overrated, anyway." Carolina shrugged, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Guess I saw the error in my ways. What you said really got to me."

"I didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as it did-" I started, interrupted by a single held up hand from Lina.

"Yes you did. But it's ok, because I get it now. At first I didn't exactly understand why you'd want to anonymously help people, but serving justice is about more than the fame you get. It's about the satisfaction that you get from helping someone, of making someone's life at least a little bit better just because you can help them when you couldn't help yourself."

I looked at her blankly, blinking a few times before I said "I just do it for the adrenalin rush, but that works too." Carolina shoved me in the shoulder, grinning as she easily took my joke.

"Very funny, Mona. But I've made my choice on this. I'm going to help you."

"You shouldn't take anything I say so seriously, Lina. You'd get killed out there."

"Just think!" She went on, ignoring my last comment. "We could be partners! I'll tell you the future and you kick bad guy ass." It was hard to deny the hopeful look in her eyes.

"No way! I've been doing this way longer than you! You'd be my sidekick if anything." I crossed my arms over my chest triumphantly.

"Ha! You just agreed to let me come with you."

"What?" I spluttered, realizing I practically had given her permission. "That so doesn't count, Lina. You tricked me."

"Just give me a chance. Tonight. If I crash and burn you have complete right to ban me from vigilantism. But if I prove myself, Owlet gets a new partner."

"Sidekick," I grumbled.

"Fine. Sidekick. Do we have a deal?" She stuck out a perfectly manicured hand, waiting for me to shake on it.

Grudgingly I shook her hand. "Yes. We have a deal."

(PUT A LINE BREAK HERE!)

"Hello, kitties!" I chirped as I let myself into the apartment. A few cats meowed as I walked in, running to greet me at the door, eager for food and attention. The brown cat that had laid claim to me rubbed its face on my knee-high socked leg. "I'll feed you guys; you just gotta give me some time."

"I already fed them," came Selina's voice from the kitchen. "They're just being little attention whores." The sentence might've sounded harsh but the woman said it with such compassion it was hard to not mix up "whore" with a synonym for "darling angel".

"Guess they're not the only ones," I sighed heavily, throwing my backpack onto the floor by the kitchen, leaning on the counter to look at Selina with big, sad eyes.

"What's eating you?" Selina asked, biting my line as she put away dishes from the dishwasher. It didn't take a trained eye to see that whatever she'd done last night had left her sore and stiff, seen by the slight winces and flinches as she reached up to put a bowl on a high shelf.

"Boy problems," I sighed pitifully like a normal teenage girl, or at least what I thought a normal teenage girl would be like. Seeing as I'd never been one it was difficult to relate.

"Boy Blunder problems?" she inquired.

"How'd you know?" I asked with more sarcasm than I really should have. Selina didn't seem to take too much offense in it, though.

"He'll get over his little phase of 'I like you, but I don't, but I do, but we can't.' Bruce did that exact same thing for years; of course we weren't looking for a serious relationship. Still aren't." Selina shrugged like it didn't matter much at all. I suppose to her emotions were just cat toys, and guys like Bruce Wayne were just catnip.

"So you're saying I'm suffocating him with feelings. Well isn't that just peachy?" I groaned before dragging myself to my room. I closed the door and locked it behind me, obviously not wanting to be disturbed. Within a few moments of coming in I was on my hands and knees, fishing my owl suit out from under the bed.

"Let's see if I can add some improvements to this puppy," I said softly to myself, spreading the suit out flat on the floor before grabbing my cowl. With my fingernails I popped open a small panel on the back, smiling as I caught sight of the intricate circuitry. If all went as planned Owlet was going to have the best tech on the streets, even rivaling that of the Dynamic Duo themselves.

(PUT A LINE BREAK HERE!)

"Owlet?" came the soft voice in the night, calling out to me as I hid in the shadows, though I really had no need to. I instantly recognized the voice as Carolina's. "Owlet?" she tried again. I could hear her coming closer as she finally stepped into the alley I was in. the girl before me looked nothing like Carolina, but that could've been due to the fact she was wearing a hooded cloak to where I couldn't see her face. The cloak was a deep burgundy, like a few shades darker than cranberry but a few shades lighter than dried blood. She seemed to move like a ghost, giving the entire effect of her costume a very eerie one. I slowly stepped out of the dark to stand a few feet in front of her, but if all was going well, I knew she still shouldn't be able to see me.

"Glad you could make it." She jumped as I spoke, but I couldn't really blame her. For one, how many disembodied voices do you hear that you know aren't from your own head? And two, the voice wasn't one she could possibly recognize. As part of the improvement added to my suit I included a voice scrambler. Call me paranoid, but if one of those cronies from the Cleaner's op, or even a future one, recognized my voice as Mona Ryder's, it'd be game over instantly for me. Besides, you can never be too cautious, something I'd learned from the Bat.

"I can sense you," she said quietly. Intuition told me that under her hood she was closing her eyes in concentration. In an instant she leapt at me, her outstretched hand reaching directly for my throat. Instead of letting my training automatically kick in, I sidestepped her attack neatly, hitting the golden "O" on my chest to disengage my temporary invisibility. Once I'd come into sight Carolina turned and stared for a while as if not believing I was really there.

"How the hell did you do that?" she wondered aloud, her voice still hushed in the empty alley.

"It's a cloaking device I installed in the suit after school. It took me hours and it's still in the prototype mode, but I can get it to work for 3 to 4 minutes at a time." I still hadn't quite gotten used to the voice scrambler though I'd practiced with it for hours on end, but I knew it I wanted to keep my identity I'd soon have to just get over it.

"How did you get that to work at all?" she asked.

"Daughter of two brilliant scientists, remember? I didn't just sit in their lab coloring pictures when I was little." I rolled my eyes under the mask.

"Shh! Someone will hear you!" She waved her hands around frantically.

"I checked the place over before you got here. It's completely clean, no people, no bugs. Now are we done here?" I asked impatiently. Carolina nodded uncertainly, looking around as if she didn't trust my judgment. "What am I supposed to call you?"

"What?"

"For a codename, idiot."

"Oh! You can call me…. Uh, Seer. Call me Seer."

"Seer?"

"You know, like someone who sees the future." She shrugged awkwardly under my harsh, analyzing gaze.

"Cute," I commented, pushing past her to get out of the alley. "There was a robbery on 4th street, I want to get down there and re-steal. They can't have gotten farther than Pine Road or Meester Avenue, depending on which direction they decided to go." I dug in my utility belt for a small device, handing it to Carolina. "This is a comms unit and it's only the frequency that I can share with you so nobody has any way of hearing us. That doesn't mean you can say whatever you want, but it'll be something to keep our jobs a little bit more secret. There were two men, you go to Meester and I'll take Pine so we can find them easier and take what they got."

"Doesn't that just make us criminals too?" she asked, gliding up to my side.

"Not when we tie up the original criminals and anonymously return the goods," I told her, my remark short, sweet, and rather snippy.

"Oh," Carolina said, falling into an embarrassed silence.

"I don't suppose you can fly?" I asked, preparing myself to leap into the air from the ground, my muscles tensed and ready.

"I prefer to stay on the ground, out of convenience, preference, and the simple fact that I don't have the ability to fly. But I've got a bike parked around the corner. And yes, I'm legal. I've even got my license with me." Carolina sounded proud that she'd thought ahead, like a little kid who wanted their parents to see what they'd painted though it only looked like colorful blobs.

"Lemme see it," I demanded. She fished out the driver's license from her pocket, holding it up for me to see her smiling picture. She'd just turned 16 on Christmas so the license was relatively new. I grabbed it from her, ignoring his indignant squawk and shoved it into a pouch on my utility belt.

"Hey, that's mine!" she protested, trying to pry the pouch open. She was easily met with a sharp volt of electricity. She yelped, pulling back her hand.

"Try that on my cowl and the same thing will happen," I told her smugly. "I calibrated it so the biometric pads I installed in there only respond to my specific readings. Anyone else will get a really nasty shock."

"Yea, I get it. No touching the belt of the hood thing." Carolina, or really Seer, said sourly.

I scoffed at her choice of words but went on to explain myself. "If you get caught the first thing they do after either tying you up or knocking you out is search you. If you have your ID on you it'll only be that much easier for them to figure out who you are. Got it?"

"Jeez, someone's paranoid."

"Seer, a month ago I almost died at the hand of my parents' murderer because I was too cocky. I thought I could take him, I thought I had all the trump cards since I'd figured out his evil scheme. I was dead wrong and that's not going to happen again." My voice was quietly dangerous, like a bubbling volcano on the brink of eruption.

"I- I didn't think of it like that," she admitted. "You've been through a lot since I left, haven't you?"

I gave her as much as a pointed look as I could muster from underneath the cowl. "You have no idea." The note of finality in my voice helped to end the conversation. Well, that and the fact I'd already leapt into the air, giving my wings a few strong flaps to propel me higher. In seconds I was flying towards Pine Street when my comms unit crackled in my ear.

"Wait, Owlet, go to Meester. The thieves are there," Seer ordered me; I looked down to see her running towards a sleek motorcycle around the corner from the alley.

"How do you know?" I asked, unconscious suspicion laced in my voice.

"Ok, which one of us here gets the premonitions?" I remained silent at her rhetorical question. "That's what I thought. Just trust me, it'll save you time."

"Fine," I grumbled, dipping my left wing into the air so I could turn around to head towards Meester Avenue. I hear Carolina's motorcycle start up, speeding in front of me as she headed towards the same destination. As I neared I could hear the store's alarm still blaring as cops barely showed up to the scene of the crime to find a hysterical store owner and a lot of broken glass. It was a jewelry store that specialized in the sales of extremely valuable gems and metals, especially vintage pieces that could cost upwards of millions of dollars. I sincerely hoped that Carolina's tip was correct, that the thieves were indeed going towards Meester Avenue. If she was wrong I would've wasted this entire night chasing phantoms and Gotham City would be no closer to getting cleaned up than Space was to getting free air. But something in the pit of my stomach told me that she was right, so I trusted the feeling, wishing that it was right with all my being.

And it just so happened to be spot on. About 3 blocks away from the jewelry store were two men, kneeling down in an alleyway with a large sack between them. They were obviously splitting their stolen goods between the two of them, trying to make as much money as they could while still trying to rip their cohort off. What a life Gotham caters to. I touched down in the mouth of the alley, quickly switching on my stealth mode. I rushed into action, invisibly running at the man nearest to me, shouldering him in the gut. He doubled over as his friend looked around curiously, seeing no one in the alley other than his now injured friend. I gave the first man a punch to the face before ducking down low to sweep his feet out from under him. Unfortunately he seemed to have expected that move because he held his ground, furiously looking around him for his attacker.

"Who's there?" He demanded, wiping a sheen of sweat off his face that he must've accumulated from running from the jewelry store.

"Nobody," I replied, grinning as I remembered the scene from the Odyssey where Odysseus met up with the Cyclops who wanted to eat him and concocted a clever plan all circling around the fact that he'd claimed his name was Nobody. The man growled viciously, blinding swinging around at me. Still on the ground after my failed attempt to floor the man, I gave him a swift kick to the shin, followed by one to his groin. In a bout of wordless pain the first man toppled to the ground, holding his privates as if there were no tomorrow. He didn't seem to be getting up anytime soon, either.

It was about that time that my stealth mode gave up on me. I blinked back to normal, appearing before the second man. But this man was ready with his gun. He took a shot at me, hitting me square in the chest as the force from the bullet shoved me backward. If Batman hadn't upgraded my suit to include bulletproof armor I would've been dead. I was even lucky considering how close of a range I'd been shot at, but the worst it did was knock my breath out of me and probably give me a nasty bruise on my chest.

The man took advantage of my momentary incapacitation. He ran forward to tower over me, holding his gun pointed down at my face. He was shaking as he did so, though. Possibly from the adrenalin of the getaway, the fear of being caught, the frigid cold of the winter weather, or maybe the withdrawal he was having from not using his drugs in a while (the guy reeked of weed and other substances). But no matter how pitiful he looked, he still held the upper hand seeing as he could shoot me before I even had time to say my last words.

"So the famous Owlet decides to come after us then?" he asked in a thick, scratchy voice. He looked like he had to force himself to swallow a scream. "And she can turn invisible now. Great. At least the Gotham crime scene won't have to deal with you anymore." He cocked the gun but I only scoffed at him, now that my breath was back.

"You have no idea who you're messing with. I'm one of you guys, dumbass. Is it so bad for a girl to try to make a name for herself on to streets after taking down her biggest enemy?" My voice was tantalizingly persuasive, oily like a talk show host's would be.

"You're lying!" he accused, shaking the gun at me.

"Am I, now? Where do you think I was for that month? On vacation? Hell no, I was learning from the best criminals Gotham has to offer, figuring out their tricks and trades so I could use them for myself. Even now I'm working with drug lords and you have the balls to threaten me?" I glared at him, something that was easily felt even through the cowl. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

The man stammered uncertainly, unconsciously lowering the gun as he did so. He couldn't seem to come up with an appropriate answer for me, but it didn't really matter. I saw my chance and I took it, swinging my leg up to kick the man in his hand. The gun clattered uselessly to the ground next to me as I took the man by surprise. I used myself as leverage to push my body from the ground, grabbing the man's arm without thinking about it, yanking him over my shoulder so that I would use his weight and my strength to propel him into the air. He landed on the ground roughly, probably feeling the way I felt only a few moments ago, his eyes wide with shock and pain. With the arm I still had a hold of, I twisted it behind his back.

"And you thought you could take me. Honestly, if you aren't a costumed criminal in Gotham you're just fucking, pathetic, aren't you?" I spat into his ear as he whimpered with pain. I gave his arm a rough jerk and he instantly cried out, giving me satisfaction for the first time that night that I'd done something that had at least sort of gone according to plan. I didn't give a second thought as I flipped the man onto his stomach, shoving his face into the dirty ground as I grabbed his other arm by the wrist. I kneeled half on the ground, half drilling a knee into his back as I grabbed a pair of handcuffs from my utility belt and easily hooked them on. "Taken down by a little girl, can't wait till you get to tell your prison inmates all about that." I stood up, kicking the man one last time in the chest. "And that's for shooting me. Didn't your mother teach you manners?"

"Owlet, that's enough," Seer said, suddenly appearing next to me like an apparition.

"What, you think they deserve compassion because they were once young and innocent too?" I turned to face her, anger written all over my face though I wasn't sure why I was mad at her in the first place. "You can baby them but I'm not gonna give a shit, if it's all right with you, sidekick." The words felt like venom coming off the tip of my tongue but it honestly felt good to get out. I didn't make eye contact with her as I grabbed the man's gun, shoving it between my utility belt and my body before the man tried to snake his way over to it, not that it'd do him much good now. "Just grab the loot and let's get out of here. I'll tell you the regrouping coordinates in a bit." I shoved past her, swinging myself onto a newer looking set of balcony ladders for the apartments that were housed in the building on one side of the alley. I stole a few slightly acrobatic moves from the Boy Blunder, using them to propel me to the top of the building before I sprinted off the side of it, launching myself into the air almost as soon as I'd gotten up there. I didn't even have time to catch my breath before I was being pelted with cold air from Gotham's winter. Lately I'd noticed the weather was slowly returning to a sort of springy default where trees and small patches of grass attempted to bloom only to be covered with snow a week later. But the temperature hadn't gotten down any lower than 20 in the past few weeks. Maybe once the environment reset itself for the year I'd follow suit and really figure out who I was and what I was doing. Did I really just almost break that guy's arm back that? Did I just snap at my best friend for no reason? Did I just take a gun that could be potential evidence for the police?

"What's going on with me?" I wondered softly too myself, making sure that the comms unit wouldn't be able to pick up my voice.

"Owlet?" Seer inquired in my ear. "Coordinates?"

"Right," I muttered. "Go to that bakery that's down the street from the Police Department. I'll meet you there in a few."

"Got it." She went silent, apparently choosing to focus on the road rather than me. I couldn't really blame her though. I had been bitchy to her on not one but two occasions when all she'd done so far was help me. I couldn't even begin to imagine what was going through her head as she raced through the streets of Gotham. Was she resenting her choice to come back and save me? Did she hate the person I'd become, the thing that Fincher had molded from hate and scorn and tragedy for two whole years? Could she possibly understand what I've gone through that has led me to the Mona, or Owlet, that I am today? I hoped she could, because it felt as though Carolina was the only person I could communicate my stresses with at the moment, even though I didn't quite tell her everything. I wasn't even sure I could tell someone everything, my life was just too damn complicated these days. There was life as Mona, trying to keep up a cover story that I didn't even have any evidence for, or trying to maintain a semi-normal image at school, or attempting to find a relationship in the darkness that was the crime fighting world of Gotham. Then there was life as Owlet, with me attempting to gain a crazy, hacky sack wielding drug lord's trust, or acting as a villain when I knew I was a hero, or even doubting myself as I was now, wondering whether I really was a hero or not when push came to shove.

"You were never that good at whining as a kid, figures you'd come to develop the habit as you got older," a voice scoffed in my head. I mostly ignored, it was easier that way. I tried to hum a familiar tune in my head to keep my guilty thoughts and voices at bay, because in the ensuing silence they were the only things that truly plagued me.

Seer leaned on her motorcycle as it was propped up under a burnt out streetlamp, looking pretty badass and eerie in only a dark red cloak. She held the bag of loot in her hand, gripping it tightly as if paranoid someone was going to steal (which, let's face it, wouldn't be that much of a stretch for someone in Gotham). She made a sort of annoyed tsking sound as I finally touched down in front of her, coming to a slight running stop from my excessive momentum.

"Kept me waiting here long enough," she commented.

"It's not my fault that motorcycles are faster than synthetic wings," I replied. I was pleased that she didn't seem completely pissed off at me, only a little bit peeved. She was hiding it pretty well, though.

"Here." She held the bag out to me and I took it wordlessly, fishing a few things from my utility belt and handing them to her. She looked at me curiously as I gifted upon her a set of black gloves and her ID back. "Why did you give me gloves?"

"Even people who get premonitions have fingerprints. I don't want someone tracking you down, Seer." She angled her head just right so that I could see the bottom half of her face where a smile graced it.

"Thanks, Owlet. It was an interesting night. Short, but interesting. It was good working with you." She slipped on the gloves, returning back to her bike.

"Anytime, sidekick." I gave her a broad grin, hoping that I'd make up for all the crap I'd put her through since she'd arrived in Gotham. She honestly deserved it, and I knew how much she wanted to help. She must've thought that if she helped me out in my crusade to rid Gotham of crime she could save me when my time came to die. It did feel good to know that there was someone out there that had my back even when they didn't want to.

She kicked her motorcycle to life, revving it up a bit before zooming away into the night, soon disappearing within the darkness. I didn't wait too long before making my way to the top of the police department, somehow knowing that Commissioner Gordon was up there, expecting me. And I was right. He stood bundled up in a thick coat, leaning against the Bat-signal as his breaths came out in white puffs of air as he attempted to keep warm. I opted not to use my stealth mode. I want the Commish to trust me and if I snuck up on him invisibly that might not be the easiest way to the guy's inner circle of important people.

He noticed me almost immediately, straightening up as he caught sight of me. "Owlet," he greeted softly, shivering in the cold. I was numb in my hands and feet, but whatever new stuff Bruce had made the suit out of seemed to insulate me and I could only thank God for that. I don't think anybody wanted to find a frozen Owlet-cicle anywhere or anytime soon. "Had a feeling you'd drop by."

"Had to." I tossed him the bag. "Got something for you tonight. Armed robbery on 4th, didn't you hear? Your guys were there way too late."

"Thank goodness we had you," he said sarcastically, rubbing his hands together.

"Yea, no kidding. Besides, you should be more grateful." I pointed to a rip in the outer layer of my suit. "I took a bullet for you, Commish."

"He shot you?" Gordon exclaimed before groaning and talking to himself. "This is exactly what I thought was going to happen. Putting fucking kids in danger."

"Hey, I happen to like the danger," I told him while waltzing back to the ledge. "Besides, it was fun. Got a lot of steam out. You should try it sometime."

"I think I'll just take your word for it," he muttered, shaking his head at me. I flashed him my new trademark devilish smile before leaping off the top of the building. I was about a quarter of the way through my flight back to the apartment when I was tackled, and yes I do mean tackled, from the air. Someone who had been waiting for me on a side of a building apparently saw their golden chance to get me and took it. We plummeted to the ground but I was able to shake them off with just enough time to cushion my landing with a bit of air. I thought for sure my attacker would look like a bug on a windshield by the time they hit the pavement but they too had some skills up their sleeves. They were able to grab onto a streetlamp, using the pole to slide their way down to the ground safely. For a fleeting moment I was extremely impressed until I realized exactly who they were.

"Batgirl," I growled as I caught sight of the girl and her flaming orange hair that peeked out of the ripped cowl. She had hemmed the edge since the last time the world had seen her so it didn't look quite so jagged. However she'd kept the cape as it was, mostly for flare seeing as it was so short it ended above her butt. That wouldn't be providing her any protection, even disregarding the fact that it was a Halloween costume.

"So you've heard of me," she chirped happily. "Great, now we won't have to do pesky introductions."

"What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be working on taking down small time crimes?" I glared at her, hating the fact she'd ruined my night. I was going to go home and sleep until about noon on Saturday, seeing as it was already midnight.

"You're a loose cannon, Owlet. And Batman isn't taking you down so someone has to."

I couldn't help but bark a laugh. "So you think that after a few successful fights you can take me on, just because the Dark Knight hasn't? Oh, that's rich."

"Don't act so high and might, Owlet. It's costumed criminals like you that give Gotham a bad name."

"Criminals like me? Can you actually pin me with a crime, Batgirl? What have I done that you can prove?" I crossed my arms triumphantly, waiting for her response.

"You're affiliated with a drug lord that works with Falcone."

"Yet again, I ask for your proof. If you can't actually find me guilty of something tangible then I think we're done here." I tapped my foot, not even having to act impatient. It was all coming naturally to me.

"You just assisted with an armed robbery, letting your new partner get away with the stash so you could go to your secret lair thing or whatever." Before that sentence it would've been easy to pin Batgirl as a possibly young college student, or maybe just an un-bloomed woman in her early 20s. But after you pull the "whatever" card you can pretty much just call them a teenager and not have to worry about the consequences.

"'Secret lair'?" I mocked. "What are you, 7? And I still fail to see any concrete evidence that I am to blame here."

"You have a gun tucked into your utility belt." I looked down almost instinctively. I had completely forgotten about the gun in all the excitement of fleeing the bad guys' beating, but it was still indeed there where I'd left it.

"Would you look at that," I whistled, taking it out and looking over it before returning it to its original spot. "So what, I've got a gun. Proves nothing."

"I'm willing to bet you're under the legal age to be carrying a gun, Owlet." I cringed as Batgirl seemed to drag out every syllable in my name while she said it.

"Would you stop saying my name! I don't like it when you say it, sounds like you're taunting me!" I pouted like a little kid.

"Underage to carry a gun and apparently underage to act mature." Batgirl pressed her lips into a small but firm victory smile.

"Oh, you take that back!" Before I could help myself the rage returned. I rushed at Batgirl, taking out a bola as I went. She jumped out of the way with a back hand-spring. Well shit. I was going up against someone who was skilled in gymnastics? I'd never have a chance to hit her if she's flipping all over the place! _Focus,_ I told myself. _You've taken down the Boy Blunder and he's an acrobat. How hard can a gymnast be?_

Apparently apprehending a gymnast was near impossible if you were wondering. Each time I'd get close she'd duck and weave in sorts of directions that I didn't even know the human body could go in. I threw bolas and Batarangs but she always avoided them with lithe grace, a smirk growing wider and wider on her face as we went on. We must've gone on like that for 15 minutes, a dangerous dance between a well-trained ninja (that's me in case you were wondering) and a highly skilled tumbler. I had finally taken to holding an extended Batarang in my hand, using it as a knife to attempt to wound her every chance I got. I didn't care that she was just a high schooler, probably a girl my age. It didn't matter here. Here she was someone who threatened my ability to do my job against crime. And anyone who got in my way was sure to get shot down.

So when I got in a lucky slice across her arm, I didn't think twice before pursuing her harder and faster, pushing her past her limits of operating with a wound. She began to get clumsy, second guessing mine and her moves leading her reaction time to be slower. I was able to finally get in a few hits to her shoulders and legs, the parts that would obviously take the most abuse while practicing gymnastics. Her offense began to severely lack as she tried to mostly just keep me from getting any more hits in. But I was ruthless and on a roll, a dangerous combination when you're dealing with someone like me who may or may not be mentally imbalanced. She was on the brink of giving up when I ceased all my attacks, giving her a final push to the ground before backing away. She was probably aching in many places, bleeding in some, and just plain hurting all over. She stayed on the ground where I'd left her, trying to vainly catch her breath from the rough beating.

"And that," I said slowly in the night as I brushed myself off. "Is why you don't take on someone you know is better than you." I gave the girl a final glare. "Don't go messing with things you don't understand, Batgirl. There's a lot more to Gotham than just the good and the evil."

"So which category do you believe you fall in?" she spat. I noticed some bloody spit finding its way down her chin.

I prepared myself to take off, answering her question cryptically. "Definitely somewhere in between."


	17. Mistakes

AN: Before this chapter I was a sad failure of a Batman fan because I had not seen the 2008 movie, The Dark Knight. But I finally got it a few days ago and I've watched it several times since then. This has got to be the best movie I think I've ever seen in my entire life. I had no idea what I was missing and seeing it has actually given me more inspiration for my writing, so that's why I feel like this chapter is a bit darker than the others. I love this chapter for that fact, and I hope you guys will to. But you wanna know something that makes me sad? I have all these people who story alert and favorite my story yet I only get about 5 reviews a chapter. Now, how does that seem fair? There, I'm done with my little rant. Hope you all don't think I'm complaining. I just really like it when people share their thoughts on my story. No matter how little you might say, it all helps to make this story better. Please please PLEASE, read and review and enjoy.

Mistakes

"Mona." A sharp pain erupted in my cheek. I groaned a bit, gathering up the blankets on my bed around me, burying my face in my pillow. My shoulder was then yanked back and forth; obviously someone didn't want me sleeping.

"Leave me alone, it's Saturday morning. I don't have to take this," I grumbled. My response was mostly muffled in the sheets and blankets but I knew that the person trying to get me up could hear.

"Mona, get out of bed," they demanded. Sleep was still hazing my sense so it was almost impossible to recognize the person's voice.

"Go away." I vainly tried to get them to leave once more but they weren't taking no for an answer. The intruder ripped my sheets off my bed and off of me, turning on my light so that it could burn into my eyes.

"Mona, you're still wearing the suit." The person's dismal statement made me open my eyes to look down at my body. Though my vision was still clouded with sleep I could see I was still wearing the grey owl suit. The thick Kevlar padding on my chest, back, arms and legs made me sleep awkwardly so all my limbs were stiff and sore.

"Hey, look at that," I muttered, sitting up and stretching. I put a hand to my head to feel my hair flattened and slept on in odd arrangements. "Least I'm not wearing my cowl, too."

"You are such an idiot." The person who'd woken me up sat on my bed and I finally realized who it was.

"Good morning to you too, Carolina," I yawned.

"Morning? Not quite. It's already 2 in the afternoon."

"Well, it was a tiring night for me."

"You have to get up sometime," she told me.

"No, I don't," came my immaturely argued reply. Carolina gave a long sigh.

"At least eat something. You haven't had a full meal in over 24 hours, Mona."

"But I'm not hungry." I stood up, stumbling a few steps as I did so. I began to slip off the suit until I was only standing in sweaty and wrinkled Underarmor. My stomach growled in protest as I pushed up the sleeves of my shirt, showing deep purple bruises along my arms. "Ok, maybe I'm a little bit hungry."

"What in the world did you do to yourself?" Carolina wondered aloud at the sight of my purple skin.

"Ran into someone who didn't seem to like me very much last night. She picked a fight with me, but I won." I shrugged as I went into my closet to get a fresh change of clothes.

"Wait, she?" Carolina asked.

"Yes, she. Batgirl." I walked past Carolina to get into the bathroom that adjoined mine and Selina's room, changing into the clean shirt and pants I'd grabbed.

"There's a Batgirl?"

"Geez, Carolina. Do you ever watch the news?" I splashed some water on my face, running my hands through my hair to get it out of my face. It hung down into my golden brown eyes as I watched myself in the mirror. Dark rings were under my eyes, probably from the lack of sleep I've been enduring throughout my first week back as Owlet.

"So is she with the Batman?" Carolina questioned.

"No, she's operating on her own, not out of choice but because she has to. She doesn't know I'm working with Batman and she didn't even bother to get her facts straight before coming after me. She's a good fighter, mostly because of her style. She was obviously a trained gymnast. But she wasn't as extensively trained in self-defense, and that's the only reason why I won last night."

"So, who is she?"

I shrugged as I exited the bathroom. "No one knows. Well, scratch that, I'm almost sure Batman knows. That guy knows everything, I swear. It really fits him that he's called the Greatest Detective in the World." I left my room without waiting for Carolina to respond, heading immediately to the kitchen. I pulled the fridge open without really paying attention to my surroundings. I grabbed some condiments for making a sandwich and groggily put them together between two pieces of stale bread that Selina had left in the bread bag unsealed.

"There, you happy, Lina? I'm eating lunch." I took an obnoxiously large bite out of the sandwich as Carolina exited my room.

"Always have to be the smartass, don't you, Mona?" Carolina shook her head as she bent down to pet a cat that was doing a figure-eight between her legs.

"Careful with them, they seem cute and fluffy but some of them actually are evil. Take it from a firsthand witness." I shuddered as a particularly innocent looking Russian Blue looked up and meowed at me.

"I'll, uh, take your word for it." Carolina stood up straight. "So what's on the agenda for today?"

"Dunno, I've already slept a bunch so I suppose we can cross that off. I have an essay I need to write for Modern History class, and-" I was interrupted as the house phone began to ring. "Guess I'll get that." I leaned over the counter to pick up the phone off its vertical cradle on the wall. "Hello?"

"Hey, this is Mona, right?" asked a semi-familiar voice on the other end.

"You bet. And this is?"

"Bette Kane. I got your number from Dick. I was wondering if I could talk to you, you wanna meet somewhere today?"

"Uh, what for?" I asked.

"Well it just didn't seem fair that you've been at Gotham Academy for a while and we haven't had a chance to really get to know each other. So you wanna up at like Gotham Park? It's actually not that bad out today so it'd be nice for a walk."

"Yea, I guess that sounds kinda nice. What time do you want to meet there?" I crinkled my forehead in confusion. Why Bette Kane wanted to be seen with me even in school was a mystery. Before I'd taken the month off I was a social outcast, yet now everyone wants to know me. Guess even the second generation of Gotham's social class were suckers for being on TV.

"How about 3:30?"

"Sounds good to me. See you there." With furrowed eyebrows I hung up the phone. "Well that was certainly weird."

"Sounds like you've got somewhere to be," Carolina said airily. "Who was that?"

"Some girl from school. Says she wants to meet me at the park at 3:30 so we can get to know each other better or something." I shrugged, heading back to my room. "Why did you wake me up anyway?"

"Dick called. He said he wanted you to call him back as soon as you could."

"Too bad for him. He'll be waiting for a call that'll never come."

"You guys must've been pretty heated before he screwed the whole thing up," she observed as I slammed the door to my room closed.

"I suppose you could say that. It was a game of cat and mouse between Robin and Owlet and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he liked the chase. At least, he did. Now I don't even care. I have more important things to worry about than a teenage boy who's lost interest in me."

"Whatever you say," Carolina sing-songed. "I'll just let myself out since my gracious host is too busy to show me to the door."

"Yea, yea, whatever- wait, how did you even get in to the apartment?" I froze as I asked the question, suddenly extremely confused. The door was always extremely locked and the fire escape to my window could only be accessed if you were going down it or if you had a grappling hook. There was no logical way for Carolina to have come in.

"I'll, uh, tell you later. Bye!" I heard the door slam as she left and I sighed. I suppose her answer would have to wait. I had someone I needed to see.

* * *

><p>Though it wasn't all that cold outside it was still windy. And if you think having short hair when it's windy is an advantage, you better think again. It's nearly impossible to keep it out of your face because you have nothing to grab a hold of. I could've put a hat on, but what's the point of having great hair if you hide it under a hat all the time? I sighed to myself, shrugging my shoulders against the wind and wrapping my arms around myself. I was sitting on the same bench I had with Robin the last time I'd been to Gotham Park and the memories that it brought with it were not pleasant. But I ignored them as I waited for Bette, wondering when she'd actually get here.<p>

"Mona!" she called out as she briskly walked over to me, the window pushing her blonde hair into her face.

"Speak of the devil and the devil shall come," I muttered, getting up and putting on a forced smile to meet her. "Hi, Bette! It's nice to see you."

When she got to me she gave me a huge hug like we'd been best friends for life. I returned it, not quite knowing what else to do. I mean, if the most popular girl in your school came up and hugged you, would you reject her? I mean, think about it in my perspective: At GA I'm a total social outcast without help from the popular kids, and, let's face it, my life is depressing enough without me having to be an outsider at school as well. It was a relatively easy choice for me to make between accepting the help given to me and rejecting it. It's probably not all that hard to guess what I chose.

"C'mon, let's walk." She looped her arm around mine, giggling like a little girl as she did so.

"So, uh, what did you want to talk about?" I asked, trying to make it sound the least awkward as I could.

"Geez, Mona, get right into the heavy stuff in the beginning, why don't you? Let's just enjoy the day first. It's the middle of winter and we can actually see the sky! Isn't that great?" Bette gave another strange laugh. I couldn't remember her being so… bubbly during school. Something was definitely off with her.

"Fine, let's enjoy the day. I'm glad it's snowing, I don't think I could afford to miss any more school." I tried my hardest to make the conversation as bland as I could. My plan seemed to work because Bette immediately wrinkled her nose up.

"Ok, conversation equals a no-go. Let's get down to business then." Bette adopted a serious expression, stopping in her tracks as she turned to face me head on. "Mona, I know you're like totally depressed about Dick. Everyone who's anyone knows how he totally shut you down the other night, and since we're total besties I thought I'd help ease your pain. Because I know you don't deserve to be played so callously by that Bruce Wayne in training."

"Uh, thanks, Bette. But I don't really know how you could help me." I could feel my face flush red as she talked. If the popular kids knew that Dick had rejected me then everyone knew. That was all I needed, the entire school making fun of me because Dick Grayson didn't feel the same way. Perfect. As if my life couldn't get any worse as it already was.

"Trust me, I've got just the thing for you." She reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a small, paper envelope about 3 inches tall. I could see the outlines of small objects inside but without closer examination I had no idea what they could be. Bette handed it to me with a sly smile.

"How is this going to help me?" I asked, playing the dumb card.

Bette gave a long sigh. "You'll see, silly. Just go easy on it, cuz I'm sure this'll be your first time. Tell me how it was, ok? I'll see you Monday!" She gave me another quick hug and was dashing back from where we'd come before I could ask her any more questions. I slowly made my way back to the bench, thinking about what could possibly be inside the envelope that would help me. Apparently my imagination was not big enough or too innocent because when I sat down and opened the envelope, tipping the contents into my hand, I was shocked.

There were about 6 little white pills that tumbled out into my palm. I recognized them immediately from my training with Bruce (Bet you didn't think he taught me detective stuff. Well, he did!). They were ecstasy pills, otherwise known as MDMA. If you didn't know, ecstasy is a psychoactive or entactogenic drug which means that it messes with the parts of your brain that have to deal with your feelings and emotions, usually producing a sense of euphoria along with heightened perception. While this may sound all fine and dandy, ecstasy is not only an addictive drug, it can also be extremely dangerous. It impairs your cognitive abilities and overheats the body while also making it restless. There have been reported cases of people dying on ecstasy because they literally cooked their insides because of all the movement paired with the drug's effects. It's also known to be a hallucinogenic that takes you to an altered state of consciousness where everything may seem all right but the after effects are never worth it.

So why, at 11 pm that night, was I standing on the fire escape outside my room in the apartment, wearing the owl suit, holding those pills and a glass of water?

"This is crazy," I muttered. "They're not gonna help, they're going to make things worse, if anything."

_They'll ease your pain,_ a voice said soothingly in my head. _They'll make you forget Dick. You shouldn't be afraid of them._

"I'm not afraid!" I snarled, popping all 6 pills into my mouth, quickly downing the glass of water. I didn't know what I was expecting, but I didn't feel anything for a while, so I decided to take a flight. If they weren't going to do anything I might as well go out and patrol. I'd tried to call Carolina to come with me but she said she'd have to take the whole weekend off. Her parents wanted her to come visit them while they were in Australia studying the coral reefs or whatever. Needless to say, Seer wasn't going to be showing her face around Gotham City any time soon. But without Carolina with me I was able to take the pills guiltlessly. I didn't want her knowing I'd even had them.

But it was about 20 minutes later when the first effects started to come on. I was flying over bustling downtown Gotham when I seemed to get a good look at it for what felt like the first time. The lights were so vibrant! I couldn't believe that I'd never noticed them before. It was like all the colors that could possibly be in the world converged on Gotham Square tonight, just for me. I landed on top of a building, clumsily but still able to keep my balance as I watched the lights work in their beautiful patterns. A laugh burst from my lips as I saw a helicopter rise into the sky, dancing in the dark with that single spotlight targeting out random objects in the night. It was so amazing, how everything looked right now. Like I had been going through life with my eyes closed for years, like this was the very first time I'd actually allowed myself to live for real. And it was so worth it.

I flew for what felt like hours, laughs bursting from my mouth, elation running through my veins as I was free among the millions of people living in Gotham. I felt at peace yet in the middle of an adventure simultaneously, wondering how that was possible yet not caring at the same time. I couldn't wipe the giant grin off my face as the wind rushed past me, whistling beautiful noises in my ears. My night couldn't have gotten any better until I heard an awful, out of tune note pierce the air: a cry of help.

It started out as a scream and was so much easier to pin-point after that. The shout came from a street one block away from where I'd been flying, making it all too easy for me to just pop in there and see what was going on. My landing was even worse this time. As I hit the ground my knees buckled out from under me and I fell to the ground, rolling to a stop in front of two muggers and a young woman. I got up as fast as I could, wobbling on my feet. I smiled at the criminals, unable to help myself. Something in the back of my head wondering why I hadn't felt any pain from my clumsy fall but it was easy to push the thought away.

"Well," I said in the silence, my voice sounding lyrical and sweet to my now attentive ears, even with the voice synthesizer. "What do we have here?"

"Would you look at that," one of the men laughed. "It looks like little Owlet is trying to stop us."

I shook my head quickly, holding my hands up in surrender. "No, no, I'm not. I just don't wanna have you guys do something you'll regret." I turned to the woman behind me. "They obviously want your purse, so why don't you just give it to them? They're not gonna hurt you!" My over-simplified version seemed to confuse the woman even more.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"It's simple!" I exclaimed childishly. "Just give them your purse! They're not gonna do anything to you if you do. I mean, they're normal people just like you and me but they can't seem to make ends meet. So they gotta get help from other people."

"This is taking too long," the first man growled. "Get out of my way, Owlie." The man shoved past his partner, taking a swing at me. I wasn't fast enough to dodge his hit as it landed me square in the face, sending me sprawled on the concrete in seconds. Yet again, I couldn't seem to feel the pain though I knew there should've at least been some.

"Hey, if we've got Owlet here all benevolent and helpless, why don't we give her a message to take back home," the second man told his friend with a broad grin. "When are we ever gonna have this chance again?"

"Good point," his partner guffawed as they both advanced on me.

"Great idea!" I chirped, sitting myself up. "But what's the message? If I don't hear it right I might get it wrong."

"Oh trust me, Owlie. You'll hear this message loud and clear," growled the first man. Before I really knew what was going on, they were literally pummeling me with all their force. Fists were flying and kicks landed their target while I still hadn't had time to process any of this. Why were they hurting me? Did they mistake me for someone? I hadn't done anything to them, so it must've just been an honest mistake on their part, right? They'd understand sooner or later that they didn't need to beat me up and I'd forgive them. Right?

Wrong.

I felt no pain by the time they let me alone. They could've beat at me for hours or for a few minutes, I couldn't tell. All I knew what that it was dark where I was and I couldn't move. In an adjoining alley near me I could see wicked shadows dancing on the walls, having their fun as I lay in the street, unable to get up and join them. I told myself this was only temporary, I'd be able to get up and dance real soon, I just had to rest a little bit. It was too bad those guys didn't realize their folly sooner. I might've been up by now if they had.

I told myself that all I had to do was wait. But I waited and waited and still there was nothing I could do. I couldn't get up and dance with the shadows, I couldn't fly home to get in bed and sleep, and I couldn't reach up to my cowl to activate my comms unit. I was stuck laying in the street for what I definitely knew was hours. I could feel my sense of joy slowly slipping out of me, like blood draining from a bad cut. The shadows on the wall left me as the moon made its way across the sky, illuminating different parts of Gotham as it went. As the joy slipped away, the pain began to take its place. But it was in that strange half-way stage of pain and pleasure when he found me, bending down and cursing under his breath as he lifted me up into his arms, carrying me to a giant black beast, setting me inside it as he got in himself.

"Wha-what is this?" I tried to form the words but they couldn't quite make it all the way to my lips, instead coming out as various assortments of moans.

"What the hell did you get yourself into?" my savior growled. "You've trained for this. You should've been more than capable of protecting yourself, so why didn't you?"

Batman! This was Batman! Batman had saved me! If I could've laughed in relief I would've. I was in good hands now, Gotham's only Dark Knight would help me, he'd help the pain go away, and he'd help bring the joy back to me. Batman would know exactly what to do. I tried to smile as I slipped out of consciousness, hearing his yelled demands and questions in the background.

* * *

><p>Waking up in the Batcave isn't one of the most pleasant experiences you could ever have. I should know, this isn't the first time it's happened. But this time was definitely more disorienting. I woke with a start, gasping for air, feeling the cold sweat of a nightmare running down my face and back. I couldn't immediately recognize my surroundings, seeing as I'd hardly ever been in the Batcave (Bruce didn't like me being in there, especially after I shorted out the Bat-computer by spilling coffee on it). For a moment fear gripped me like an iron fist making my breaths shorter and faster, my mind racing a mile a minute as I did so.<p>

Until I saw where I actually was, surrounded by expensive equipment with large stalactites hanging above me and the faint sound of rushing water playing in the background. I let out my breaths in a long sigh, shaking as I tried to get off the examination table I'd been laid on. When my feet touched the floor I thought I'd be home free but once I put my weight on them they collapsed out from under me and I fell to my hands and knees, panting on the floor. Why couldn't I hold myself up? What was wrong with me?

I looked down at my hands and arms, seeing that they were all practically the same ugly shade of bruised purple with some thick black-brown lines of cuts. When had I gotten the pulp beaten out of me? Who did this to me? As I racked my brain for answers it seemed that they all came to me in an instant. When I'd attempted to stop that mugging from turning sour I'd apparently failed. Big time failed, by the state of me. I weakly raised my head to see Bruce standing a few feet away, still in his Batman get up but without the cowl. He was wearing his signature Bat-glare though, and it was scaring the shit outta me.

"Your drug test came back positive," was all he said, his voice cold and judgmental. "What the hell did you do last night?"

"I-I didn't know it'd be like that…" I trailed off, my voice becoming quieter with my shame. What had I been thinking, taking drugs? They engrain it in your head from a very young age that drugs are bad and what do I go and do the first time I get ahold of some? I use them. I must be some kind of fucking idiot.

"You didn't know what?" he roared. I immediately flinched as he yelled, bowing my head to hide the pain on my face. I never meant to disappoint Bruce. This was never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to find out. But now he had and I was forced to pay the consequences.

"I didn't know how it would feel to use it," I whispered. My voice came out loud and clear in the cave, making Bruce let out another enraged bellow.

"You nearly got yourself killed out there! What if I had been too late and you'd bled out? Or what if those guys that beat you hadn't stopped when they did? And the amount of drugs you took, that was nearly lethal! What the fuck were you thinking taking psychoactive drugs?" Bruce's words stung as they seemed to point out every single little thing that I had done wrong. But as much as I hated to admit it, he was completely right.

"Someone at school gave them to me and told me they'd make me feel better, ease the pain…" My excuse sounded weak and feeble next to the man's arguments. "I don't know why I tried them, I guess I was just curious…"

"'Just curious'?" he mocked. "There were at least 7 different ways you could've died out there and most of them would've been completely because of the drugs. Was you almost dying tonight worth sating your overactive curiosity?" Before this Bruce had never actually yelled at me. Sure, in training he'd reprimand me for doing something wrong or leaving myself too open, but that was just training. Now he was full out shouting at me like I was his child who had broken his house rules.

"Why do you even care?" I muttered. "It's not like I'm your responsibility."

"You don't think you're my responsibility?" Bruce forced a laugh. And, ladies and gentlemen, that laugh was a million times scarier than any of his yells ever could be. Seeing Bruce/Batman laugh was just one of those disturbing things going on the back-burner of my memory along with catching Bruce and Selina together and seeing a dead body for the first time (not a fun story). "Every single second you spend in that Owlet suit, you are entirely my responsibility. There's only a few pads of Kevlar and a pair of wings keeping you alive out there. What if the suit malfunctioned and you were to fall to your death hundreds of feet above Gotham City? Who's conscious do you think that'll be on?"

"You're not my father," I mumbled, guilt seeping into my voice.

"I'm as good as. Do you have anyone else who's actually watching after you? Selina just lets you stay at her place. When was the last time she actually checked in on you to see if you were ok? When has she stitched you up after a hard battle?"

I was completely floored at his response. Did Bruce just tell me that he was practically my father? That he actually watched out for me and cared for me like a normal dad would? "She hasn't."

"Exactly. Whenever you go out as Owlet there's always a chance you'll get hurt, or worse. And after tonight, I don't know if I'll be able to trust you out there again." My head snapped up as he said this, immediately giving me an awful headache.

"What do you mean?" I asked fearfully, hoping that I'd heard him wrong.

"I mean that you're not going to be Owlet. If not forever then at least for a little while."

"No!" I shrieked, trying to stand up with the help of the examination table. "You can't do this! I need Owlet!"

"Perhaps you should've thought about that before you took ecstasy and went on patrol." That sentence ended the conversation as Bruce strode away, cape fluttering behind him. I watched him with desperate eyes, tears beginning to blur my vision. His tone of finality made my heart sink farther I could've ever thought possible. I was banned from being Owlet. Possibly for good. And there was no one I could blame besides myself. I let the brimming tears spill down my face as I vainly wiped them away, looking around the Batcave for something to dry them with. My eyes wandered to the costume display Bruce had set up, to one costume in particular on the end, with bright colors and a domino mask to match.

A plan began to form in my head as I fought my sore muscles for the power to stand, making my way over to the case with stumbled steps until I was resting my face and hands on the clear and pristine glass, looking at the domino mask with hungry eyes. My mind made itself up as I looked at the costume close up, sure that I could fit into it. If I couldn't be Owlet then Gotham would have to meet the new Girl Wonder.


	18. Still Around

AN: Sorry this took so long, I'm a busy person. This chapter might be a little hard to follow, so read carefully and please don't judge me. And it kinda sucks but I've been a little too uninspired lately. I promise I'll never take this long to update ever again unless I'm somewhere without internet or I'm dead. Please read and review

Still Around

When I was younger I used to stay up late with my parents while they were working hard on their latest experiment, and no matter how much I wanted to stay up and help them with their project, I would always fall asleep in the lab. The next morning I'd wake up in my bed with no recollection about how I got there, and I used to think it was magic. I'd fall asleep in one place and wake up in another. And when I was little it was cool. But now that I'm almost 16, falling asleep in the Batcave and waking up in Selina's apartment kind of scares me. Actually, it really scares me, especially when the first thing I feel is a cat's claws in my back and its sandpaper tongue on my neck.

I jolted up from my position on the floor, shouting out a little in surprise. The brown cat that had adopted me gave a little meow of impatience, slinking away to get something to eat. I was panting from the sudden shock of waking up in the apartment as it left, looking around wildly as if the walls were going to melt away to show the rocky interior of Batman's hideaway. But they stayed as walls. The only thing that changed was Carolina walking into the living room as I got up by propping myself up on the couch. She held a coffee mug and was stirring it every so often.

"Oh thanks God, you're up," she sighed, putting the cup on the table and helping me all the way onto the sofa. "I was starting to get a little worried."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, feeling how dry my mouth was. "How did I get here?"

"Well, you were always here," Carolina said gently, sitting on the coffee table, occasionally knocking her knees together.

"What do you mean?" I demanded loudly, feeling a headache coming on. "Batman took me back to the Batcave! I was there!"

"What all do you remember?" Carolina asked quietly. I thought the question was extremely odd, but I answered anyway, telling her what I remembered from when I woke up to Batman telling me I couldn't be Owlet. Carolina rubbed her temples slowly with her eyes closed as I talked as if not sure what she was going to reply to me with.

"If you don't tell me what's going on I'm going to drop kick you into the middle of next week," I threatened. That got Carolina to smile a little bit.

"Well, Mona, it's kinda complicated."

"I've got time. So spill."

"Do you want the blunt version first or the detailed explanation first?"

"Blunt first, then explain."

"You never went to the Batcave."

I blinked in surprise, not expecting her to say that. "What?"

"You never got a call from Bette, you never got drugs, you never did drugs, you never got attacked, Batman never rescued you, you were never told that you couldn't be Owlet, and you never got the idea to be the Girl Wonder."

"What the hell are you talking about?" My voice was inching towards hysteria. Carolina had just plainly told me that yesterday pretty much never existed.

"Mona, none of that happened. It was all in your head."

"What, like a dream while I was awake?"

"Well, yes and no. Did you ever wonder how I got into this 9th floor apartment without a key to the door or a way to use with the fire escape?"

My mind flashed back to what I thought was yesterday and I did remember asking Carolina how she'd got into the apartment before I had gone to go see Bette. "Yes…"

"And you know how I have powers?"

"Get to the point already!"

"Ok, ok! Well, I guess I got some more powers."

My eyebrows furrowed together as I took the new information in. "New powers like what?"

"For one I've got a small form of telekinesis." I gave her a dubious look but as I did so I noticed the spoon in the mug she'd brought was slowly stirring by itself, giving me all the proof I'd ever need that she was telling the truth. "And, well I'm not sure what to call it, but I can put images and ideas into people's heads and they think its reality."

I froze completely at that. The events that I had thought were the worst day of my life weren't even real? They were images projected into my head from the person I called my best friend? I could feel my headache returning again as I realized what was going on. "So you mind controlled me?"

"Not exactly, no. I couldn't control what your body did from your mind. I could just manipulate your brain. While you were living out those events in your head you were actually completely unconscious here."

I slowly balled my hand into a fist, forcing myself to keep my cool. "So you used telekinesis to get into my apartment and you made me believe that I had taken drugs?"

Carolina could sense my mood beginning to turn sour as she looked down at her hands, ashamed. "Well… yes."

"And did you just expect me to be fine with that?" I exploded, jumping to my feet to yell down at her. "You don't realize how scared I was! I thought my life was over! I thought Bruce would never trust me again! I thought I was never going to be the same Mona again, that I was a complete and utter failure to my parents. I was so desperate that I was going to take Robin's old costume and parade around in SCALY GREEN UNDERWEAR!" I dropped my voice. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"I was just curious," she whispered. "I wanted to see if my powers really worked like I thought they would. I kept telling myself it was just a social experiment."

"Oh really? I'm just a social experiment now? Let's put Mona on drugs and see what lengths she'll go to! Ooh, what fun!" I shouted out sarcastically.

"No! I didn't mean it like that! You've got to believe me, I didn't know it'd be that real to you, I thought it was just going to be like a dream, where you could sort of tell that it wasn't real but you went along with it anyway."

"Well, newsflash, Carolina, it wasn't!" I snarled, storming away from her. "How long was I out anyway?"

"About 3 hours," she mumbled, looking back down at her hands, her long blonde hair falling around her face like a curtain.

"So I've lost a perfectly good 3 hours on a Saturday because you wanted to mess around with your powers. I may have never had powers, but I think I'd know well enough not to mess with my own friend with them." I stomped away from her to my room. "Think you can leave my apartment without causing more trouble or is that too hard of a favor to ask?"

"I'll go…" She said quietly. I heard her get up from the floor and walk back to the kitchen, rinsing out her cup before leaving without another word.

"Well this is just great," I groaned to myself, sliding down the door to sit. "Both my best friends are being idiots, what are the odds of that happening at the same time?"

"Apparently pretty high!" I answered myself with a small, borderline hysteric laugh. To any normal person I would've seemed completely mental. Well, even to some abnormal people I probably seemed a bit crazy. That was most likely due to the fact that I was, indeed, the tiniest bit insane. But, c'mon now, aren't we all? And don't I have the right to be kind of insane after the day I've had? I just found out that all the worst things that could have ever happened to me didn't actually happen. That's great and all, I just wish they hadn't ever happened in the first place, I can guarantee it would've saved everyone a lot of time and a large portion of my sanity.

"Stop complaining!" I shouted out to myself. "It's over, it's done with, Carolina feels shitty, and you know that none of it was real. Just go back to the way things were before." I sighed, collecting myself before crawling back into bed, trying to forget any of this had actually happened.

* * *

><p>When I wake up to hear the door to the apartment closing for some reason the first person I assume it to be is Carolina, but in a sick rush of reality I remembered what had gone down earlier today and easily ruled her out. Next I thought it would be Selina, I mean, this was her apartment in the first place. But as I listened attentively I strained my ears to hear complete silence. Whenever Selina got home she'd talk to the cats as if they were little kids who waited for their mother to return home from work, so I knew this couldn't be Selina. That only left Bruce and Dick, both of which seemed unlikely because, even though they could both get into the apartment one way or another, Bruce had no business here and Dick should still be feeling my cold shoulder towards him.<p>

"Who could it be?" I muttered to myself, silently getting out of bed. I started to make my way to the door with slow, steady footsteps before I heard the sound of cats yowling and glass being thrown to the floor. Without quite knowing what I was doing, I fled to my window. I climbed out onto the fire escape just out of sight if someone looked out of the window from the doorway of my room. While I was sleeping it had begun to rain so it made it practically impossible to hear anything besides my now chattering teeth and the sound of rain hitting the pavement 9 stories below, much less whatever was going on inside.

"Great," I grumbled, trying to stop myself from shivering. I was only wearing my Underarmour from beneath the owl suit without shoes or socks, and believe me, it wasn't near enough to keep the cold rain from soaking me to the bone. "Now I'm cold and wet and I can't hear who's inside my apartment."

After a few minutes of cautious crouching on the fire escape I plucked up enough courage to peek inside my room, seeing the door now wide open to show the mess that lay beyond my room. Broken dishes and cat food were scattered on the floor, the modest TV that sat in the corner of the living room now had a large hole in it, and it looked like someone had taken a whole can of black spray paint to my room. It seemed like the intruder had left so I climbed back inside, analyzing the mess they'd made.

"Oh man…" I gasped as I stepped inside my room. The intruder had rummaged through the entire place, tearing down the few posters I'd put up, ripping my sheets and throwing my clothes everywhere. But what shocked me the most was that they'd found my owl suit. Well, found isn't quite the right word. They took my owl suit, stabbed the thing to the wall with kitchen knives, saturated it in black spray paint, and then left a handy dandy message on the wall next to it.

"REVENGE IS A FUNNY THING, RYDER. YOU'RE THE JOKE, I'M THE PUNCHLINE." Admittedly it was probably the lamest comeback I've ever heard in my entire life, but it did its purpose well enough. It was there to tell me that my greatest enemy was back, and that he was coming after me.

I couldn't help it as my hands shook while I dialed Bruce's number on the phone in the kitchen, one of the few things that remained untouched after the massacre on my home. The phone was picked up after a few rings. "Wayne Residence, may I ask who's speaking?"

"Alfred," I said, fighting to keep my voice level. "Can I talk to Bruce?"

"I'm afraid he's out at the moment, Miss Ryder. Could I take a message for him or is this the other kind of business?" My eyes darted back to the message that was messily scrawled on my wall.

"Definitely the other kind of business."

"I'll have him contact you through the comms unit in a few minutes," replied the elderly man.

"Thanks, Alfred," I sighed, hanging up the phone and going back to my room. Some cats began to come out from various hiding places with their fur still on end from the attack. A few of them hissed cautiously at me as I passed by but I payed them no attention, going straight for the owl suit that was still pinned to the wall. Once I'd finally gotten all the knives out I surveyed the damage done to the suit. There were eight holes in all, four in the front and four in the back from where the knives had neatly passed through. He didn't seem to have damaged the wings and once I hit the now blackened O on the front of the suit I could see that I was still able to use stealth mode.

I dug out my cowl from farther under my bed, glad to see Fincher hadn't degraded it as well. With the biometrics still in place I slipped it onto my head, waiting for Batman to be patched through on the line.

"What do you want?" His daunting growl came suddenly, followed by grunts of effort and exclamations of shock. He was obviously calling me while he was fighting.

"Fincher," I blurted. "He's back, he just broke into my apartment and wrecked everything."

"The suit?"

"It looks fine, he just got some spray paint all over it. There's a message from him on the wall: 'Revenge is a funny thing, Ryder. You're the joke. I'm the punch line'."

Batman gave a long sigh. "Meet us at the pier at 10 but make sure you aren't followed." He didn't say anything more before disconnecting the line. I took off my cowl, running a hand through my hair to get it out of my face. Could today honestly get any worse? I supposed I was about to find out.

* * *

><p>I wasn't about to go out as Owlet with giant splotches of black spray paint all over my suit. I mean, I'm a badass now. I would look ridiculous like that. So naturally I did the first thing that came to my head and wasn't totally crazy: I went out, got some more spray paint, and made the entire suit black. Sure, black wasn't the most original color, I mean, Batman already had it, Penguin wears a black tux, Two-Face wears half black. But I was forced to work with what I had and at the moment all I had was a partially black, partially grey suit. I couldn't erase the black so sue me that I wasn't the most unique with my solution.<p>

It was five minutes to 10 when I landed down in the shadows of the pier, almost completely invisible now that my costume was no longer an ashy grey. It amused me that I had to paint the suit black after I'd installed the stealth mode but I didn't have much time to dwell on the fact as the Batmobile came roaring towards the pier, stopping abruptly in its place. The Dynamic Duo climbed out, both with sour looks on their face as they caught sight of me peeling myself from the shadows.

"And here I was starting to think that grey was the new black," Robin cracked as he saw the suit, smirking as he chuckled to himself.

"Oh shove it, Bird Boy. Let's try spray painting your uniform a different color and having you attempt to pull it off," I growled. It felt great to get out my pent up anger from Mona while I was Owlet. It gave me a sort of excuse to be hostile towards Robin without questions having to be asked.

"You're sure you weren't followed?" Batman interrupted our insult match, directing the stern question to me.

"Positive," I replied. "I checked my tail about every 5 seconds."

"Good. Now what exactly happened in the apartment?"

"Fincher broke it, wrecked the place, and then left after about 8 or 10 minutes. Nothing was stolen."

"And your suit works fine?"

"I got here didn't I?" I asked him, my short temper peeking through. "So are we going after him or not?"

"Not. We have no concrete evidence it was Fincher, and we have no actual reason to go after him in the first place. It might not even be Fincher for all we know."

"Of course it's Fincher! There's no one else who knows my identity and no one who hates me enough to go through all those lengths to break in." I was practically seething now, my anger boiling over like a pot left on the stove too long.

"There's not enough evidence," he repeated. "We'll keep in touch and I'll let you know if we learn anything else. I'll expect you to do the same."

"That's it? You'll 'keep in touch'? This is Jerome Fincher we're talking about! If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be! He eluded capture from the police then disappeared off the face of the Earth for a month. Just because you're the goddamn Batman, the Greatest Detective in the World, doesn't mean you're good enough to find the guy who murdered my parents. If he can play the system he can sure as hell play you too, Bats." It was about that time that Batman slapped me in the face, causing me to stumble backwards and nearly lose my balance on the rough surface of the pier. I looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes that I knew he could see in the darkness, my cheek stinging from where he'd hit me.

"Why did you do that…?" I asked quietly, like a whimpering puppy that had just been kicked.

"You were getting hysteric," came his simple yet gruff reply. "Somebody had to do it."

I rubbed my cheek in a degrading silence, knowing I must've looked completely pathetic as I nursed my wounds while they climbed into the Batmobile. Sure, I'd been hit much harder by a lot of other people, but those other people weren't my second fathers, like I had hoped Bruce was, though it was impossible to tell if he had accepted the role or not.

* * *

><p>I'm not usually one to panic but when nothing seems to be going well AT ALL for more than 24 hours you start to get kinda jittery. Well, at least I do, but that might just be my rare time of reacting like a normal person. Let's start at the top of the list:<p>

1. The guy I like (cough Dick, cough) doesn't want to acknowledge my existence

2. I'm working for a drug dealer/mob under lord

3. Batgirl has decided to start bothering me

4. My best friend made me believe that I'd taken drugs and was suspended from being Owlet

5. My parent's murderer is back in town and knows where I live

6. I haven't seen Selina in about a week

The last one probably pains me the most because it's the one I can't do anything about. Since I'd started school up again Selina hadn't been to the apartment as far as I knew. I hadn't seen Catwoman prowling the streets. I hadn't heard Bruce talking to her or about her so I had to assume the worst. By the time I return to Selina's apartment the day has been exceedingly too rough on me, yet I'd somehow found a way to keep strong, to keep my shields up. But after stumbling into the apartment to find it completely wrecked and void of life but a single brown cat, I realize even Selina has abandoned me. I allow myself to crumple to the floor, letting the tears fall as I hold the cat, facing the fact that it's the only thing that has come to truly love me in my world.


	19. Seen

AN: I feel really awful for not updating for so long. Really, I do. But like I said before I'm feeling a little uninspired in things related to Batman. I'm just so excited for the Hunger Games movie it's all I can think about. I'm writing a one shot that's kind of a crossover of Hunger Games and Mona's world but that's about as far as I've compromised :P I'm really sorry again.

But I did post some of the one shots with Mona, it's called Ready to Go so you all should def check that out and tell me what I need to do better and what one shots you'd like to see. Also, I never thought I'd write a chapter from Carolina's perspective, so tell me how I did. I used some ideas I got from Chronicle for how she uses her telekinesis, but I've also never written a character that has powers, so excuse my failures.

And I noticed a mistake of mine. In the last chapter I said that Mona hadn't seen Selina for about a week, but the last time we see Selina is in chapter 16, which is only a few days before chapter 18. Please excuse this and pretend that Selina has just been gone for a week, okay? I'll fix it later when I'm done with the story of when I have time. Please enjoy!

Seen

Carolina's POV

The awful feeling of guilt gnaws at my insides as I leave Mona's apartment around 5 in the afternoon. When I receive the suspicious looks of seedy Gothamites I only respond by pulling my coat's wool collar closer around my neck and face to not only protect myself from their looks but also from the cool wind that has decided to pervade the streets. True, it has been getting a little warmer lately, but spring is still a long way away. I try to let the dreary smell of pollution and rain distracts me from how bad I feel about the whole ordeal with Mona earlier today. I wish she could understand what it's like to have these powers and nobody to share the responsibility of them with, or even tell about. I only have Mona and because of that she's the only one I could've chosen to help test out my new powers.

I supposed it would've been better if I'd told her ahead of time what I'd planned to do. But when something new and amazing happens to you, the well-being of others regrettably takes a backseat to your enthusiasm and excitement. This situation was no different. I took a turn into the heart of downtown Gotham, trying to make myself look older in the neon lights and harsh streetlamps by standing up taller and straighter. It's dangerous being an adult at night in Gotham. Imagine how it is for beautiful teenage girls.

"Of course, not all teenage girls have amazing powers like I do," I whisper, smiling to myself. The thought of being able to protect myself with practically magical means comforts me more than the fact I am well trained in gymnastics. However I know I can't get cocky. Once you get cocky you might as well let yourself be attacked because your guard has been reduced to practically zero.

A man that is obviously drunk sits on the sidewalk, his back against a wall as he slurps up an almost empty bottle of liquor. He calls to me with slurred words, telling me to come and join him. Without even having to think about it, the bottle he's holding explodes into shards of glass; his remaining liquor is soaked up by his clothes and the sidewalk. He cries out in anguish and I just smile a little wider to myself as I walk on. Telekinesis is definitely my coolest new power, there's just no competition.

I make my way home to my parent's downtown apartment over a little boutique that my older sister runs. My parents are usually out of town so it's only my sister that lives up in the apartment and me when I come into town on those rare occasions. As I pass through the mostly empty clothing store my sister doesn't even pay attention to me, seeing as she's talking up a cute boy who's probably a student at Gotham U. He's wearing one of those preppy little letterman cardigans for guys over a navy polo. He reeks of a goody two shoes wanna be bad-boy so bad that I have to hold my breath as I pass them. He's leaning over the counter, charming my sister with facts from his psychology class that are supposed to make him look smarter. With the slightest twitch of my index finger, his 300 dollar tennis shoes lose traction on the polished wood floor and he slips, banging his head on the counter. I grin a little to myself. The scum will have a noticeable bruise on his forehead for at least a week.

I walk to the back of the store, passing through the warehouse like area where the shipments are stored and inventory is taken, going up the staircase that's tucked away in one corner of the back room. In seconds I'm upstairs in the apartment, going straight to my room and slipping my jacket and shoes off. I throw them on the bed that hasn't been made since the last time I've slept in it. From my closet I grab the burgundy robe that transforms me into Seer. But before I can put it on I change into more inconspicuous clothes. Black shirt and pants that trap in my body's heat, tall lace up leather boots with silent soles, the gloves that Mona gave me the other night, and a simple black domino mask that I'd picked up at a costume shop the other day. I braid my hair back away from my face until it's only a long braid that goes about 4 inches down my back. I know my costume for fighting crime isn't near as high tech and intricately put together as Mona's is, but she's had time to perfect the whole vigilante thing. This is one of my first few nights as Seer, so it only makes sense that I won't be as protected as she is. I wrap the cloak up in a tight bundle before sneaking back out of the apartment, down the stairs and out a back door in the inventory room. From then on, I'm home free in Gotham.

I slip the cloak on and find a close and abandoned alley where I keep my motorbike when I'm not suing it. I lean against the dirty brick wall, forcing my mind to go blank, lowering all the mental barriers I have learned to put up since gaining my powers. About 3 months into getting the visions I realized I couldn't completely stop them but I could at least slow them down, choose when I got them instead of having them come whenever. It's a skill I've just recently perfected, yet perfected is a very loose term considering there are still times when visions get through the barrier. When I went out with Mona to have coffee my first day back in town is a perfect example of that.

My newest vision however is one of a mugging that is going to happen off 22nd street. A man about 25. A college girl, maybe 20. He has a gun. The vision ends abruptly with the man reaching for his gun. Her future isn't set. If I don't get there and do something about it, she'll either lose just her money, or lose her life. I pull my burgundy hood over my face and rush to my motorbike, revving it to life and pulling out of the alley and into the crowded Gotham traffic. It's now closer to 6 than 5 and the sun is quickly retreating in the sky. I weave between cars as the city falls into darkness, an unsaid sense of emergency running through my veins as I drove. Someone's life is on the line and it's my job to save it. No one else's.

Once 22nd street comes up nearer I slip out of traffic, driving over the sidewalk to cut between some alleyways to get to the predetermined mugging spot. I jump off my bike before it completely shuts off, running the final half block or so with urgency. If I arrive a moment too late someone could die. But as I come up to the place in my vision I know I am just in time. The man stands above the girl like I'd seen in my vision, now holding the gun aimed at her head. She's cowering on the ground, tears running down her face, making her mascara run down her face in black tracks, some smeared as if she'd tried to wipe tears away. The man gives her a sick smile, cocking the gun back silently. But my hand shoots out in front of me, ripping the gun from his hand and into my own. The gun is heavier than I'd have expected but it is no match for my telekinesis which crushes it into a steel ball in seconds, dropping it to the ground. The man and the girl are now gaping at me openly as if I'm some sort of strange anomaly.

And I suppose I am. Metas aren't usually welcome in Gotham. It's well known that this city is strictly the Dark Knight's territory and anyone who trespasses gets to face his wrath. But those metas that don't come here have a high respect for Batman. That's the difference between them and me. I know that he's just a millionaire playboy who's hurting from a childhood that haunts him every single day. I know he's just Bruce Wayne. I know he's just human. But as Batman he seems like so much more, making everyone else wary and fearful of him except for those who really know him.

The man tries to run away after he gets over his shock, but I'm ready for that too. With the slightest twitch of my hand, his ankles are bound together with his own shoe laces. He falls to the ground, unable to catch himself on anything around him. The girl immediately gets up and gives him a swift kick to the stomach, taking back her purse and trying again to wipe her face off. She looks fearfully back at me, the ominous figure in the maroon cloak, but decides that I'm not going to hurt her and runs out of the alley. I tie the man up with the sleeves of his own jacket and leave him face first in the scummy ground of the sidewalk. Someone will deal with him sooner or later.

That is how most of my night is spent, thwarting simple robberies and muggings, learning how to adapt the use of my powers to fit unique situations. When I get the vision of Robin I feel like I've only been doing this for an hour or so though I soon find out it's been more like 4 hours. The vision itself is nothing major, just the Boy Wonder crouched atop a skyscraper, keeping a look out on the ignorant citizens of Gotham. My gloved hands ball into fists as I receive the vision. I can't help but remember how much he made my best friend hurt. All because he'd been a stupid boy, telling it straight to her face that he didn't like her. I quickly made up my mind that Gotham's resident Boy Wonder needed someone to put him in his place.

So I headed over to the place I knew he'd been, not even bothering with my motorbike this time. I had pretty much gained all the control I'd ever need on the telekinesis. I could fly now, just like Owlet could. Except her ability of flight was all about science. Mine was probably just all sorts of weird mystical and magical things that allowed me to do this at all in the first place. I sighed sadly to myself as I flew. If Mona's parents were still alive they'd want to know what made me tick. The thought made me depressed. Only two years the Ryders were alive and well, living a relatively normal life in one of the worst cities the world has to offer. Now they're dead, leaving their only daughter alone in this dangerous world, accidentally forcing her to put herself out in more danger every night while trying to gain justice for the death of the people she loved more than anything in the world.

Robin was exactly where I'd known to find him, crouched and hidden among the gargoyles and statues of the tallest building in downtown Gotham. I landed silently behind him, making sure my hood was in place before disturbing the scary silence and announcing my arrival to the boy.

"I didn't think robins made their nests on the tops of skyscrapers," I said idly, not quite teasing him but not being nice about it either. I had to give him credit for not even jumping. He had no way of knowing that I was behind him yet the most he did was slightly flinch, but that might've just been because of the biting wind that blew my cloak out sideways.

"Who are you?" he demanded, standing up being sure to mind his footing. One wrong step and he'd be a Robin pancake on the sidewalk below us.

"That's not important," I waved his question away, my voice turning steely and cold like a harsh winter wind. "I'm here to talk to you."

"About what?" he questions.

"Mona," I say, secretly loving the look of shock that registers on his face before he tries to wipe it away.

"I, uh, have no idea who you're talking about," he attempt to lie his way out of this.

"Don't play dumb, Dick Grayson. You hurt Mona." If it's possible, he now looks even more caught off guard than he did earlier. Some part of me tells me that I love this too much. "And she didn't deserve to be treated so callously by someone she trusted. Namely an arrogant boy like you."

"Did she pay you to do this?" he asks incredulously. I sneer at him.

"No. Nobody paid me. Is it too hard to believe that I'm doing this because I care about Mona? More than you ever could, at least."

This makes him bristle up like a cat that's threatened. "I care about Mona!" he protests.

"Oh? When was the last time you talked to her? Asked her how she was feeling and wouldn't take 'fine' for an answer? Have you been too idiotic to notice her ignoring you for that past few days? She's been livid because she thought you were different than other boys and you just proved her wrong."

"She's not angry at me! She understands, okay? How would you know any of this, anyway?" he glares at me through his domino mask.

"This isn't about me, Richard. It's about you being so heartless towards someone who doesn't deserve it."

"You obviously know her, otherwise you wouldn't be here," he muses quietly to himself as if he's trying to figure out if he knows me from anywhere. "But Mona doesn't have any friends, and she doesn't work with anyone as Owlet…"

"Correction, she works with me."

"Since when?"

"Since Friday night."

"Funny. You work with her one night and consider her your partner? I've been working with her for weeks."

"I've known her for as long as we've been able to talk. You thought she was a common crook for the first month or so that you knew her as Owlet and now you and Batman pretend that she's another crook again. If anyone is actually working with her here, it's me all the way. You've got nothing to hold against me, partially because you don't know me but mostly because there's nothing to hold against me." Under my hood I cringed because that was technically a lie. If he'd known about me testing out my abilities on Mona today then he'd have something to hold against me, but he had no idea about it, so I was able to get away with winning this argument.

"Look, in a business like this caring for people more than just not wanting them dead is dangerous. It can get you killed if your feelings get in the way. I was protecting her in a way that you could never understand," Dick responds. The ferocity in his voice wasn't something I expected but it doesn't deter me.

"So you break her heart?"

"It was the only way. I had to break her heart to make sure it was mine. If it was anyone else's I couldn't guarantee her safety." I had to admit there was something almost lyrical about what he'd said, but it still didn't take away the initial disgust I had for him.

"You think she's safer going out as Owlet every night and taking her anger out on random criminals and working with the mob?"

"I can't protect her from everything," he replies softly, bowing his head as he speaks.

"Then stop trying. If you really want to protect her you'll do it with her consent." My voice is cold and angry and I can see that it makes him bow his head further in shame.

"I-I can't, ok?"

"No, not ok. Not ok at all, Grayson. You've lost her trust 100% and there's very few ways to get it back, and even less opportunities." I'm trying my best to pile the guilt on top of him, hoping that it will metaphorically crush him, making him feel as if he absolutely needs to atone for his mistakes.

"Believe me," he says softly, staring completely at his shoes. "I know."

Without another word I leave him, wallowing in his guilt, hoping that my words were enough to make him take back his past actions. However as I leap off the building, letting my telekinesis slow my fall to the pavement, something tells me that nothing will happen between the two of them until before the week is over.

* * *

><p>By the time I get back to the apartment above my sister's boutique, it is well after midnight, coming into the early hours of the morning. And I'm exhausted. I don't know how Mona copes with being a hero then gets maybe 2 and a half hours of sleep and goes to school the next day. It seems absurdly difficult to me, and I thank my lucky stars that tomorrow is Sunday, so when I sleep in to some ungodly hour of the morning my sister won't be suspicious of me. She'll think I'm just being a regular teenager though I'm truthfully far from it.<p>

I sneak into the back room, carefully locking the door behind me, making my way up the stairs silently so I don't disturb my sister. If she wakes up I'll just tell her that I was partying, anyway. Since I've been back to Gotham she's teased me relentlessly about how the press in Hollywood paints me as a juxtaposition like person: a responsible party-animal, seeing as Carolina Nolan is always at the hottest Hollywood parties yet dutifully learns her lines for all the things she's casted for.

"But those days are over," I tell myself, dragging my feet as I walk to my room, closing the door behind me. The cloak and cheap mask come off, quickly followed by the boots. I shove my clothes from earlier today off the bed and onto the floor as I crawl under the cold sheets, listening to the still very much awake traffic and people of downtown Gotham. I can hear a party on top of a building across the street and smile slightly to myself. "For now at least."

* * *

><p>"Mona?" I knock tentatively on the door of Mona's apartment the next day, ready to suck up my pride and apologize to my best friend for my stupidity yesterday. She deserves it.<p>

"Door's unlocked," comes a hollow voice from within. I open the door slowly, seeing that her apartment has been torn apart. I attempt to keep a look of utter shock off my face as I close the door behind me and walk further in. Mona is in the living room, curled up on the couch with a fluffy brown cat asleep in her lap. Mona is about 2 shades too pale with dark bags under her eyes. She obviously didn't get much sleep last night.

"You look… tired," I say slowly, at a loss for any other adjectives that would be less insulting than "awful."

"Imagine that," she mutters. She absentmindedly strokes the cat in her lap, her eyes emptily staring out the window in front of her. It is then that I really notice the extent of the damage to the apartment. Broken glasses and dishes strewn across the floor, pictures torn off the walls, spray paint covering surfaces around the room. Nothing was left untouched. I look on the floor in the living room to see Mona's Owlet suit, though instead of it being the signature charcoal grey it is now midnight black, along with her cowl.

"Mona, what happened?" I ask, walking around the apartment to take all the destruction in.

"Somebody broke in," she says shortly. Her words lack any sort of detectable emotion. It's as if she's turned into some sort of robot.

"Who? Who would want to do this to you?"

"It shouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the answer to that question." Her response comes with a little negative attitude though I don't mind the sass because it tells me that there's still some of my best friend left.

"Fincher?" I ask quietly. She nods wordlessly, clutching the cat closer to her. It gave a happy purr in its dream. "Oh god, that's awful…"

"Tell me about it," her response comes with the slightest bit of relief, as if she's happy to know that someone understands her pain.

"Does the Dynamic Duo know?" I gently use my telekinesis to push some broken glass into a neat pile that is out of the way.

"Told them last night. They were no help at all. Batman told me I was overreacting pretty much."

"Then I'll tell you what I'm going to do," I say, walking back to the living room. I turn the light on, making Mona squint though she doesn't protest. I stand directly in front of her, forcing her to look at me. "I'm going to apologize for being an awful friend yesterday. Then we're going to get you cleaned up, go to breakfast, clean this place up, and tonight, we're going to celebrate."

She immediately gives me a strange look. "What in the world is there to celebrate, Lina?"

"There's lots of things, Mona. You're alive and well, you've got a great friend who you can trust anything with, and you finally have a cat that seems to love you a lot. And you're dominating headlines all over Gotham, as both Mona Ryder and Owlet. You've got so much going for you; you're just letting the shitty things bog you down. So you were taken in by Dr. Lina."

"And Dr. Lina prescribed me to party?" Mona asks, but I can see now that I've gotten a sincere smile from her, though it may be small.

"Yes, she does. So take a shower, get dressed and we'll go out to eat for breakfast, ok?" I adopt the tone of a drill sergeant and Mona gives a weak salute, carefully edging the cat off her lap and onto the couch, unwrapping herself from the blanket she had wrapped around her. She was just getting up and going to her room when I realized I hadn't followed the plan all the way through.

"Wait!" I exclaimed a bit overdramatically, stopping her in her tracks. "I forgot to apologize!"

"Oh man, now you've done it, Carolina. You know what you have to do once you stray from the plan," Mona chides me. I can't help but smile because she's playing along.

I get down on my knees, my hands clasped together. "Mona, Mona, please! I was stupid and insensitive for what I did and I should've asked permission to use your head before I did. I can't believe that I did that but I'm apologizing now from the bottom of my heart and I hope you will find some way to forgive me." I look up at her with desperate eyes, my acting gene kicking in as the improvised monologue tumbles easily from my mouth. I can see her trying not to smile as she looks down at me, the corners of her mouth twitching dangerously.

"The only way I can really forgive you is if I'm sure you're really sorry," she says. "How can you possibly prove that to me?"

I immediately remember this game from when we were in elementary. Whenever one of us would apologize to the other for doing something stupid, we'd grovel (like I was doing now) then we'd go someplace public and, as loudly as we could, yell "Mona/Carolina is the most awesome person in the world!" therefore publicly humiliating ourselves to show how sorry we really were.

"Oh, I know." I grin at her, getting up fluidly and running to the door to her apartment, throwing it open and yelling "MONA RYDER IS THE MOST AWESOME PERSON IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!" and then slamming the door when I'm done. Behind me I could hear Mona cracking up as she leaned against the door frame of her room to keep her from falling over.

"Ok, ok," she gasps between laughs. "I forgive you. Feed the cat while I get ready, ok?" I nod at her with a goofy smile of my own, going to the kitchen as Mona got dressed. I fed the cat, feeling the happy that I knew things were now once again cool between me and Mona.


	20. Tongue Tied

AN: You all know how to make me feel so much better when I'm feeling down, so thanks a lot for that. Please enjoy the chapter, and I hate to say this, but there probably won't be an update for a little while after this one because A) School is crazy and B) Over Spring Break in two weeks I'll be in California with my grandma who doesn't have Wi-Fi, sorry about that. But I promise I'll write chapters in advance in my spare time and post them ASAP. Thanks for being such great readers. Means a lot to me.

Tongue-Tied

Carolina's way of cheering me up from the dismal mess that is my life actually helped in some aspects. She took me to a fancy breakfast place where she didn't even need reservations for (being a part of two of Gotham's most elite families sure helped with that). And after breakfast she'd taken me out to go shopping downtown. I had no doubt she had more fun than I did, especially judging by the amount of bags she had by the end of the day, but she did persuade me to get a few nice things, one of them being a pretty black party dress. At the time I thought she was just making me get it because when I'd put it on it looked great on me. However now, as I stood in her apartment she shared with her sister, I had my doubts.

"We're going to a party," she announced out of nowhere after disappearing into her room for a millisecond to put her bags down.

"We who?" I inquired, trudging to the kitchen to get a glass of water. We'd been out all day and I was exhausted from the walking.

"We you and me," Lina replied, rolling her eyes. "There's a hot party at one of those clubs downtown tonight and it's all I've heard anyone talking about."

"Funny," I mumble. "I haven't heard anything about it." Of course, it's not like I really tried to hear about parties all that hard in the first place.

"We're going," Carolina repeats, this time with extra conviction. If I thought I could possibly weasel my way out of the party at first, it was easy to see that now that wasn't going to happen.

"Fine," I groaned, draining my water and settling myself onto the fancy couch in the spotless living room. Comparing this apartment to mine only made me that much more aware of how much trouble I was really in. Besides the fact Fincher knew where I slept at night, Selina was nowhere to be found, meaning that sooner or later, I'd have to start paying the bills. I suppose it shouldn't be all that hard to do if the Cleaner would keep up with his part of the deal, money for me to keep my mouth shut and help out with his drug business.

"Great!" Carolina grins as she whisks back off into her room, coming back with the black dress she had made me get earlier that day. "And you're wearing this."

"Do I have to?" I groaned. The dress was nice, really, it's just I've never liked dressing up. As a child my parents would make me go to their little dinner parties and balls all dressed up and bored out of my mind for hours on end. Those past experiences made me a little wary of fancy clothes these days, making me stick mostly to jeans and Converse whenever I could.

"Mona, this is a huge party for the coolest people of Gotham. Yes, you have to wear this. Besides, you look great in it, so it shouldn't matter." Carolina put the black dress in her room, once more appearing in the living room, but now sitting down on the couch.

"Fine," I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. I may not be arguing about it, but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy the fact she's forcing me to wear the dress.

"Don't be such a grouch; you'll see that once we're at the party no one will be able to take their eyes off you."

"Who says that's what I wanted?"

Carolina shoots me a pointed look with her blue-green eyes. "Did you ever stop to think that a certain raven-haired jerk of boy will be there, considering how exclusive it is, and this is a perfect time to show off what he could've had?"

To be honest, the idea that Dick would've been at this party never crossed my mind, but in balancing his life of Robin and Dick Grayson I know he worked relatively hard to mask his vigilante self. He went to all the biggest parties, was pictured in all the biggest magazines, and was pretty much the most famous teenager in Gotham (not including my month long stint after I'd been beat by Fincher). However, after Carolina had put the party in those terms, it seemed almost obvious that I'd have to go. Wasn't the most popular way to get back at an ex (if you could really call Dick my ex) to make them jealous with other guys? An unconscious smile grew on my face that matched the devious one of Carolina's and I knew without a doubt that this party was going to be fun.

"That sounds great and all," I start, wiping the grin off my face and turning my attention to Carolina. "But how can we be sure he's going to be there?"

Lina rolled her eyes at me as she lounged across the couch in a very Titanic-y posed way. It might've just been me, but I could swear that sometimes she looked exactly like the goddess Aphrodite incarnate. She flipped her hair and pointed to her temple. "Uh, hello? Who's the one who gets premonitions here?"

"Gosh, sorry I keep forgetting my best friend is a meta-human. That's just not something that crosses your mind every two seconds, you know?" I scowl at her but we both know it's in good fun. "So you've seen this and you know it's going to work?" I ask once more, a bit timid compared to my previous snipe.

"Going to the party will work out for you just fine if you actually try to have fun. Don't be a wall flower the entire night. You're going to be dressed to kill and no one is going to be able to resist you if you use a little of your charm on them. If you cooperate with yourself, Mona Ryder will be the talk of the city for a completely different reason than being jumped by a gang. But only if you make it work." An easy glare befell Carolina's pretty features, twisting them into something just a tad bit fearful.

I nodded obediently. "Ok, so I'll do my best to have fun, but what will you be doing?" The scary look melted away from her face, leaving something beautiful yet dangerous in its place.

"I'll be doing just the same, Mona Lisa."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you made me come here, can't you see I'm totally out of my ele-"<p>

"Stop complaining and find a cute boy to dance with."

"You can't just order me around like that!"

"You order me around at night."

"That's different! You're not wearing a dress and 5 pounds of makeup!"

"Would you shut up and enjoy yourself already? You look great and I've seen like 6 guys already eyeing you. Go talk to one or something."

"I can't just randomly walk up to a guy and- Wait! Where are you going? You can't just leave me all alone!" But apparently Carolina could just leave me all alone, because that's exactly what she did. Our shouted conversation barely heard with the music in the club was cut short as she melted into the crowd of well-dressed dancing teens and young adults, all the cream of the crop of Gotham City. And there I was, standing awkwardly alone in the middle of the dance floor, swaying a bit from side to side as to not look too out of place, but I still knew it was obvious I didn't fit in here. I was bumped by a dancing couple to my left, sending me crashing into a group of college aged girls wearing way too much makeup and dresses that were not nearly long enough. After a few embarrassed apologies I did my best to get out of the way of any other people dancing, taking refuge on the edge of the crowd.

I had never been to a party quite like this one, though it was awfully reminiscent of the Fades concert that had ended so badly a month or so ago. But even at the concert within all those crowded and sweaty people, I still was in a more comfortable outfit and had someone there to keep me company the entire night. I sighed sadly I remembered how safe Dick had made me feel after the damage had been done at the concert. He had listened to my story and even shared some of his past though I knew it must've been hard for him. He had supported me in a time of confusion and fear; he'd been someone to lean against when times got rough.

And where was he now? Probably out there in that crowd that I wanted to get away from so bad, dancing it up with a gaggle of blonde bimbos, playing the teenage playboy part perfectly. He'd be smiling like he was having a great time though I knew he'd rather be out patrolling the city. Did any of his dance partners even guess that there was more to him than good looks and money? Did they think that there was so much about that boy that no one, not even me or Bruce, could come to understand? I highly doubted it, because those girls could've cared less about his past life, and his secret present one. He could've probably already told them his secret identity and they wouldn't have cared, besides being able to tell all their slutty friends that they'd danced with the resident Boy Wonder. Those girls didn't care about him like I knew I shouldn't.

He hurt me, maybe without quite realizing that he was. But it doesn't change the fact that he did. Dick made me trust him against my better judgment, and then turned on me in a blink of an eye. I know I shouldn't take this as personally as I am. He's a teenage boy, I'm a teenage girl. Heartbreak happens; it's nothing too controversial for people our age. But I felt like what happened between us was more than heartbreak. Dick knows practically everything about me, I've trusted him with almost all my secrets, and he was able to understand how they made me the person and vigilante I was today. I thought that this fact would be one of the things that would keep us together through hard and confusing times. I guess I was mistaken.

I was pulled by my thoughts by a tap to my shoulder. I turned to see a boy about Dick's height, towering at least 6 inches above me. He was dressed rather casually for the party in a button down denim shirt and dark washed jeans and tennis shoes (though I couldn't really judge him for the tennis shoes because even after an hour of fighting with Carolina on it, I too was wearing Converse with my dress). His hair was brushed out of his face, sort of spiked atop his head but in a natural way. He looked down at me with deep brown eyes and a soft smile on his face. I was sure I'd seen him before, but I couldn't quite place where.

"You're Mona Ryder, right?" he asked over the thumping bass line of the music. I nodded dumbly, suddenly self-conscious of my exposed arms and back. I still sported some bruises and scars from previous and recent encounters of the various unfriendly types, but Carolina had told me that it was alright to show the bruises. In her words specifically she said they would "remind the people of Gotham why I was different from them, in one way." I supposed the bruises made me different considering that the press had never really publicized the fact someone was jumped until that someone was semi-famous.

"Cain Kingston," he introduces, and that's when I realize where I remembered him from. His parents retired early a few years ago (early like, they were only 40) and left their entire company to their only son, Cain Kingston. So now the poor guy is a 17 year old CEO but according to recent reports he'd been doing a fine job running the company.

"I knew you looked familiar." I gave what I hoped was a charming grin to him. "Having a good time?"

"Actually it was getting kinda awkward for me. I came here with a friend and now he's gone." Cain looked a bit sheepish, nothing like the arrogant rich kid the press made him out to be. Honestly, you can't ever believe anything you see these days.

"I know exactly how you feel," I sighed dramatically, brushing my hair out of my eyes. He looked slightly relieved.

"Sorry I just randomly came over here." He looked embarrassed as he apologized. "I just had been hearing so much about the mysterious Mona Ryder and decided that I'd get to know her for myself." Cain looked like he wanted to give himself a face-palm. "Sorry, that came off weird. I was just wondering, uh, how are you?"

I couldn't help it as a sincere laugh escaped me. Cain was (surprisingly) a real person and after spending all my time with criminals and fakers at Gotham Academy, it was a refreshing change. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I'm just kinda nervous about being here."

"Yea, I totally get it." Cain shifted nervously from foot to foot with his hands in his pockets. The poor guy looked nothing like the confident teenager pictured on magazine covers.

"You wanna dance?" I asked abruptly, hoping that it would make Cain feel less uncomfortable. He looked so relieved when I'd asked that he couldn't keep the broad grin from breaking on his face.

"That sounds great, actually." So that's how I ended up dancing with the CEO of a powerful company at one of the biggest parties in Gotham, having pretty nearly the time of my life. Cain was a relatively good dancer and was even better at holding a conversation once he got more relaxed as the night went on. I didn't expect to enjoy myself at this party but I was glad Cain was there to prove me wrong. He took my mind off all the trivial things it'd been obsessing over for the past week. I forgot about school, about Batman, Robin, Owlet, the Cleaner, Fincher, Seer, all of it slipped away to leave me with only Cain and a good time dancing to songs I'd never heard before.

The night was going rather well until Cain and I had decided to take a break from dancing, pushing our way through the sweaty and packed crowd before finding a relatively clear space to stand. I was out of breath but I had a big smile on my face from the exhilaration of the night. I'd have to thank Carolina later for making me come out tonight. I turned to talk to Cain but the words fell from my lips as I looked behind him, seeing the number one person on my hit list: Dick Grayson. He wasn't quite surrounded by a bunch of blonde bimbos, but he had a crowd of three girls, all giggling and laughing as he spoke. I felt a scowl slip onto my face as one girl threw her head back in laughter at something clever he must've said.

Who did he think he was? Acting like that when he'd told me he didn't want a relationship? I suppose flirting boundlessly with beautiful girls was fine as long as you broke their heart by the end of the night and washed off the number they wrote on your arm. Even though Carolina had told me he was coming I still hadn't quite figured out what I was going to say when I saw him. Did I have to say anything? Did I just walk away? How was I supposed to show him that I could honestly care less about him without saying a word? Lina's advice from the beginning of the night came back to me: "Find a cute boy and dance with him." Well I'd already done that, but now I needed a way for Grayson to notice me with said cute guy.

And it just so happened that the situation presented itself as a drunken group of college girls stumbled by, roughly knocking into me as they went. I was pushed violently off my feet, and into Cain who put Robin's reflexes to shame as he caught me neatly in his arms. A sincere laugh of joy and shock bubbled from my mouth as his arms encircled me as he dipped me precariously. I gave a quick glance over and saw that Dick had seen the whole thing, his face void of emotion besides the little ticks of annoyance his left eyebrow was giving. Mission accomplished.

I thanked Cain as he helped me to my feet, smiling radiantly at him as he turned pink under the neon lights of the party. He truly was a good looking guy, I just didn't know if I was serious about him tonight. Because tonight he felt more like a distraction than an actual person I could really connect with. But whatever or whoever he was to me tonight, he certainly helped me accomplish what I'd come here tonight to do. Before Cain and I went back onto the dance floor, I shot another look at Dick. He was now practically full out glaring at the back of Cain's head. Oh, revenge is sweet.

The party went on for what seemed like only an hour or so but when Carolina found me at 1 in the morning telling me it was time to go, I'd realized that hour or so was actually 4 hours. I looked back to Cain with a small sad smile on my face.

"Well, I've got to go," I started, gently taking his hands in mine. "I had a great night."

"I did too," he replied with a little shy smile of his own. "I doubt we'll ever see each other again, though."

"I can't really argue with you on that one…" I trailed off, looking down at my Converse. His hand disappeared from mine before he used a single finger to tilt my chin up to look at him. Cain leaned down to plant a soft kiss on my lips before melting into the still thick crowd. Like a little girl getting her first kiss, my fingers floated up to touch my lips as a silly grin materialized on my face. I let Carolina drag me out of the party and take me home to her apartment where she'd announced earlier in the day I'd be staying the night. And that silly little smile stayed on my face the entire way to her home.

Once we were in the peace and quiet of the apartment we changed out of our party dresses and washed off our makeup, slipping into worn pajamas and mismatched socks. We had a little after-midnight snack of peanut butter sandwiches (something we used to do a long time ago when we had sleepovers) and flipped on the TV to watch until we got too tired to keep our eyes open.

Carolina fished me an extra pillow and blanket so that I could sleep in the living room and sat next to me on the sofa as we watched late night cartoons. She yawned a few times too many to really seem believable but I didn't pay much attention to it. I wasn't really paying attention to much until Carolina jolted my shoulder roughly, pulling me out of my slight trace caused by the cartoons. She looked pointedly at me as if she'd asked a question and was expecting an answer.

"Whah?" I asked unintelligently. She rolled her eyes at me, looking practically wide-awake.

"Gosh, would it kill you to listen?" she huffed. "I asked you something important."

"Well then ask it again, cuz I obviously wasn't listening."

Carolina sighed again, turning to face me on the sofa with her legs pulled up to her chest. With her body so small and compact and her hair haphazardly tied up in a ponytail she looked like a little kid again. "What would you think about coming to live with me and my sister?" Her eyes darted all over the apartment as she spoke as if afraid to make eye contact with me.

It kind of felt like the breath was knocked out of my lungs as she asked the question. Me? Move in with her and her sister? It sounded as great as Selina's proposal had at first. She wanted to know if I would come live with her, away from the orphanage, two girls with secret identities sticking together in the piranha pit that was Gotham. When Selina asked me I said yes immediately. I couldn't think of anything better than living with one of my mentors. But now as Carolina asks me, I feel the complete opposite of what I think I should. I feel a deep despair welling up in my soul, dragging my stomach down as if it's fallen completely to the floor. I should be elated she's asking me to live with her, to protect me. But I can't.

I can't because of so many reasons. What if Selina comes back? Is this legal? Will her sister like the fluffy brown cat? Isn't her sister allergic to cats? Will I be happier here? Is Carolina serious about this? However, though these are all very important and pressing topics, the number one risk weighing on my head about her proposition was this: How much danger will I be putting her and her sister in if I come to live here?

For all I knew the reason Selina is gone is because Fincher got someone to attack her. Selina could be hurt, dead, an amnesiac, stranded somewhere with no one to help her. And it could all easily be my fault. Fincher somehow found of where I was living and there is no doubt in my mind he could figure it out again if I moved here. And to top it all off, I could be endangering Seer's secret identity if Fincher was smart enough to put two and two together. It seemed like none of the odds were in my favor.

"Carolina, I can't…" my voice is soft as it trails off. My eyes are glued to my hands that twiddle themselves in my lap. I can't bring myself to look at her, to see her disappointment. I can sense that it's there, powers or not I'm her best friend, and you can just tell when things are wrong like that. "Thank you, but no…"

She's silent for a long, long time. Two episodes of Tom and Jerry flash by before she says another word, and I mean just another word. "Why?"

"There are so many risks," I mutter. "I can't put you and your sister through that. You guys deserve a semi-normal life and if I'm here you can't have that. So thanks, but no thanks."

Carolina doesn't respond to this. She only unfolds herself from the couch, walking past the TV and into her room. The door closes behind her and I can't help but feel like I've just hurt my best friend yet again, only this time I wasn't being a bitch, I was just being realistic. I couldn't help the fact that she was being too idealistic to see that.

I take the remote from the coffee table in front of me, switching the TV to the news channel. There are a few stories about robberies stopped by Batman and Robin, but they're all large scale like museums or private collections. There hasn't been a story about the thwarted robbery of the jewelry store by Owlet and Seer. In fact, since Owlet's returned, there hasn't been much of anything. For some odd, perverse reason this disappoints me. I guess I'd taken some strange sense of satisfaction in seeing myself on the news in my vigilante attire.

There's a story about some alleged, secret drug deals going on around the Dock in the Warehouse District but Police have been unable to get any evidence, meaning that they can't get a search warrant, so looking through the Warehouses is legally impossible. A part of me feels guilty knowing that I'm inside the drug dealing chain but I push the feeling away.

After a while I get bored of the news and decide to go to bed. I pick up the small overnight bag I brought to Lina's apartment, digging through it to get out my face wash and toothbrush when the something inside the bag vibrates quickly twice. For a moment my tired brain can't grasp what's going on. _Did my bag just vibrate?_ I think to myself. It takes another few seconds for me to realize that it's the Drug Dealing Hotline (or at least, that's what I'd come to start calling the cell phone I'd taken from the guy in the drug trade circle with the Cleaner). I searched frantically through my entire bag, getting to the bottom of it where I had three important things hidden away from Carolina. Number one, the Drug Dealing Hotline, which had a notification light blinking to tell me that I had a text message. Number two, Robin's stolen utility belt. And number three, the mask I'd stolen from Robin. I'd wanted to take my entire owl suit with me, but Carolina had been adamant that I leave it at Selina's apartment. I just barely had time to sneak those three objects in the bag before I left.

To be truthful I didn't expect that I'd have to use them tonight. The Cleaner had been lying pretty low for the past few days. But I supposed since I'd just been thinking about the drug ring I was obviously going to get calling to join in it a few minutes later. I threw a cautious look to Carolina's door which was still closed and didn't look like it would be opening anytime soon. The light was off and I couldn't detect any sounds coming from behind it. With a sigh I got up off the couch, slipping off my pajama pants and trading them for a dark pair of skinny jeans and pulled on my Converse over my socks. A deep grey sweatshirt was pulled over my pajama tank top and the utility belt went on over that like a sash. I padded silently to the bathroom, slipping on the black domino mask onto my face.

As Owlet I never even slightly explored the idea that I could use just a domino mask. It never seemed to cover enough to me; the risk factor of your identity being found out seemed to increase exponentially with just the black mask and whited out eye holes. But with the hood pulled up and the dark mask covering my face, it was easy to mistake me for anybody but Mona Ryder. The shadows the hood created helped to make my features harder to distinguish and since my cowl was across town and I need to get to the docks fast anyway, getting my actual costume was out of the question. I'd have to go out like this and hope it was enough to protect my identity.

Before I left the apartment I quickly grabbed an extra set of black gloves I'd brought with me (blame Bruce for my paranoia) and the keys to Carolina's motorbike that I knew was parked about 7 alleys away. Sure, I'd never driven a motorbike, but how hard could it be? Technically I wasn't even the legal age, like Carolina was and Dick almost was, but I was sure I could get the hang of it.

About 20 terrifying minutes later at the edge of the Warehouse District I realized that after tonight I was going to beg Carolina, Bruce, or maybe even Dick to teach me how to drive a motorbike. Trying to ride that thing without any instruction was nearly suicidal. I needed about four more hands to count the number of times I nearly died while attempting to steer that thing in the right direction. And yet I somehow managed to find a way to get to the Warehouse District in one piece, all of me still intact including the stolen mask. With little time to spare I concealed the bike in a dark alleyway and sprinted to Warehouse 27 under the cover of the night.

At around 3 in the morning I got to Warehouse 27, out of breath and still shaking from the adrenalin the ride over here provided me. The normal group was waiting at the warehouse, the Cleaner and a few of his cronies. Though it was late in the night the young man who coordinated the drug deal looked wide awake, and even mustered a smile as I skidded to a stop in front of him.

"New look you're going for, I see?" The Cleaner asks with the barest hint of emotion coloring his voice. The ever present hacky sack is travelling from hand to hand at an astonishing pace. It's easy to tell the Cleaner is annoyed at having to wait on me.

"Suit's at the dry cleaner's, had to improvise on short notice," I grumble, straightening myself up and brushing my jacket off. "So you need the keys?"

"Actually, the keys are why I called you here, yes, but not just to open the Warehouse." The Cleaner stops moving the hacky sack around before dropping it to the ground, kicking it up at the last moment with the toe of his foot. He repeats the strange action, practically skipping as the hacky sack goes up and down.

"What do you mean?" I try to keep my voice steady but I'm still out of breath from the run.

"What I mean is…" He sighs tiredly like a little kid who's overly exasperated. He catches the hacky sack in one hand and sticks the other in his pocket, pulling out a single key. "The drugs need to be moved. The police are starting to get a little too wise for my comfort, so the key keeper," he gives me a pointed look with those black-brown eyes, "That's you, needs an updated key." He tosses the key to me and I'm shocked that I actually catch the thing.

"The updated key," I repeat dumbly. I don't know why, but the small bronze key in my hand has transfixed me. The Cleaner actually trusts me? How easy would it have been for him to keep the key for himself? To cut the middle man (that's me now) out of the process and make his operation that much more smooth. Before he only trusted me with the key to the Warehouse because he had no choice. But now, moving the drugs someplace else, and giving me to new key? He's telling me (without words) that I'm a legitimate part of this operation.

"Yes, so I'll need you to open up 27 and once we ship the drugs I'll need you to open their new holding place. And you obviously can't fly tonight, so I guess you'll be riding with me." The Cleaner sounds so matter-of-fact about it all it's hard not to just nod like a little robot and agree with everything he says. "So, Owl Girl, please, open the Warehouse if you will."

And I do just that, still not quite comprehending the situation. Is this all a trick? Is the Cleaner going to pulling me into some trap where he'd planted evidence on me with the key? Is he luring me in with trust so that my guard will be lowered and I'll be that much easier to kill? Or does he actually trust me as a part of this operation?

"You know, Owlet," The Cleaner says coming up from behind me. I hadn't been paying attention and I jump a little at his voice. "In the beginning I was wary of you. You seemed like a goody two shoes type, but it's easy to see you only ever wanted to get Fincher. And I'm sure now that he's back in town you're trying to find any way that you can to get on the good side of the city's worst baddies, right?" If the sentence were written down I'm sure I'd been looked at as a question, but the Cleaner says it as if it's a statement, as it he already knows he's right and doesn't need me to confirm it.

I nod anyway, words failing me. Since he'd given me the key I'd been tongue-tied.

"It's a great way to build up powerful allies in a place like this." He claps me on the shoulder, holding something in front of me. I glance down to see that it's his hacky sack and he's holding it out as if offering it to me, challenging me. I take the hacky sack carefully from his hand, tossing it up experimentally to hear a satisfied "hmff" from the Cleaner. "And when you've been thrown into a game like this, sometimes you gotta play dirty to win."

I throw the hacky sack back to him, pocketing the key into one of the many pouches of Robin's old utility belt. As I begin to walk away from him, thinking silently to myself. _Is pretending I'm a bad guy playing dirty? Is sometimes believing I'm one of the bad guys playing dirty? Is lying to my friend and making the guy I'm practically in love with seethe playing dirty? Is the fact that I want to kill Fincher and will do whatever I can and use whoever I can playing dirty?_ As I wait in the dark cover of the night I muse on how dirty one can play before it's really considering cheating.


	21. Own the Night

AN: Do you guys wanna know what inspired this story, where the idea for Owlet first came from? It came from a trip to Wisconsin I took last summer. At the Milwaukee airport my mom let me get something from a store and what I picked was an odd thing to get in the middle of August. It was a winter hat, but not just any winter hat. This hat looked like a grey Great Horned Owl with two adorable tufts that looked kinda like ears and two large brown eyes. Thus, the idea for an owl-themed superhero was invented. Just thought I'd share that with you all. Oh, and I know I'm not going to post this on my birthday, but I finished it on my birthday, so it's like a birthday present from me to me :D Please enjoy the story, don't forget to review!

Own the Night

When I'd first met the Cleaner I wasn't quite sure if I liked working with him or not, but as he pulled away from the drug's new hiding place across town from the first one, his sleek black car driving away smoothly, leaving me in the dark, I was positive that the guy rubbed me the wrong way in all ways that there were to be rubbed. There was just something unsettling about his whole demeanor that made him different from the normal scum of Gotham, like he was better than scum but still evil. The compromise confused me to say in the least, considering I had nowhere to classify him. Normally criminals fit into a few easy categories:

1. Petty thieves like those who rob from jewelry stores

2. Henchmen who obviously work for someone smarter than them

3. Drug Boss (which I'd originally had Cleaner pegged as) who run the smaller operations but don't organize the bigger ones

4. Drug Lords (now this is Falcone) who organize everything and get all the profit

5. Mob Boss (who are usually also Drug Lords of some sort) who specialize in running their little mob family and killing whomever doesn't do what they want

6. Corporate Creeps (like Fincher and Lex Luthor) who rule their empire while somehow skirting around legalities

7. Costumed Villains who can range from mad scientist (Pamela Isley up to a point) to just plain mad (cough, Joker, cough cough) and often partake in the use of henchmen and allying with various types of higher up criminals

The Cleaner was starting to bleed into more of the higher ranking categories and it took all my self-control as I tried not to shudder at the glare his black eyes can give. People say eyes are windows to the soul, right? Well if that's true then his soul is as dark and empty as a black hole; and not in the cool way either. There was something about that guy that I couldn't pin, something I didn't quite understand that prevented me from seeing who he really was underneath the easily seen exterior.

I tried not to dwell on any stray thoughts I had about the Cleaner as I slowly made my way back to Carolina's motorbike. I knew it was already almost 4 in the morning and I doubted Carolina was going to be waking up anytime soon. She'd partied pretty hard tonight and was probably trying to get the most sleep she could before the sun came up once again. I couldn't blame her, sleeping in a warm bed, or at least on a warm sofa, sounded really amazing right now, especially when you're just plain mentally tired.

Part of me wondered if all the double-guessing and doubting I did was unhealthy for me. Never before in my life had I questioned the intentions of someone handing me a key for safekeeping. It used to be so straight forward; they give you the key because they want you to keep a hold on it so it doesn't get lost. Now it could be symbolic for me being accepted into the operation, or it could be a plot to get my trust, or it could be nothing. And my mind can't stop going over all of the ideas of what could really be going on here.

And I suppose in my overtired state I didn't want to think too hard on anything, so I slipped off the domino mask, stashing it in the pocket of my sweatshirt, pulling the hood down off my head as I walked on. It didn't matter who saw me now. The Cleaner and his crew were long gone and nobody would second guess a weird looking kid walking through the Narrows at 4 in the morning. For the moment I was safe in one of the city's most dangerous areas. Irony? I don't know, I was never very good at recognizing it in the first place. What I did know? Someone was tailing me at the moment.

I turned around suspiciously, expecting to see the brightly colored Robin waiting in the dark, or maybe even Batman tucked in amongst the shadows. I saw no until I looked up atop a lone streetlamp to see a figure crouched atop it. For a fleeting moment fear filled my chest and the sensation was so refreshing that I almost wished I had more of it. It had been a long time since I'd truly felt fear, and it was surprisingly one of those things that I missed. The figure jumped off the top of the streetlamp, hurtling through the air straight at me as I tried my best to back away. They were too fast for me and my feet tangled themselves together, ultimately landing me on my ass as they gracefully swooped over me, rolling to a stop on the street behind me.

Scuttling around like a strange sort of crab, I craned my neck to look up at them as they stood, squinting my eyes to get a better look at them in the dark. If I could wish for one thing right now it would've been my cowl to let me see perfectly in the dark without having to strain my already tired eyes. The figure strolled forward and they let the light of the streetlamp hit them full on, to show me someone I really didn't want to see right now. Batgirl.

"What are you-" I started with my tone far too hostile to belong to Mona Ryder. Owlet wanted to come out and give Batgirl the what-for because she'd been stalking me, but I couldn't do that right now without putting my identity in danger. This night was just going fantastically. "B-batgirl?" I tried again with a scared stutter finding its way into my mouth. I hoped it sounded sincere.

"What are you doing out here so late?" she asks me, her tone superior. She probably thinks she's just looking down at another scared shitless civilian. Well that's not me, bucko. Better luck next time. My mouth itched to form the shapes to say these words, but my brain told me that I knew better than that. It'd be more than idiotic to back talk her in my current situation.

"I needed a walk to clear my head. I used to come down this path when I lived at the orphanage." The words tumbled easily from my mouth and were very believable, if I did say so myself.

"Where did you get that?" Batgirl gestures to my sweatshirt and I give her a strange look.

"Um, Wal-Mart, I think. For like 8 dollars. I'm sure they've still got some if you want one."

"Not the hoodie," she groans in exasperation. "The utility belt, genius."

"Oh," I mumble, ducking my head so she doesn't see my embarrassed blush. "I, uh, found it."

"You just found it?" she asks skeptically.

"Well, yea. I guess Batman or Robin dropped it or something while they were fighting. Or maybe Owlet did, there's rumors going around that she stole a utility belt." I give a convincing, conspiratorial nod as I pass on a well-known piece of gossip down the grape-vine. Everybody knows Owlet somehow got a hold of a Bat-belt, they just don't know how.

"Having something like that is dangerous," Batgirl chides me like I'm a little kid. Who does she think she is? We're probably the same age and she's treating me like a 7 year old.

"I think I can handle it myself," I say defensively. I remember that I'm still on the ground halfway into the conversation and I pick myself up with as much dignity as I can muster, brushing off the butt of my jeans from the grime of the street.

"You were a target when you were just walking down here by yourself, Ryder. Imagine how much of a spotlight having that belt on you is going to be. It'd be safer for you to just hand it over."

"Oh, I see what you're doing here. Batgirl wants a utility belt so she can be legit like the rest of the gang!" I give a sort of half-crazed, wild laugh. For some reason my sleep needy mind finds this particularly hilarious.

Now it's Batgirl's turn to flush. And she does, though probably not as much as I did. It's still visible under her cowl. "Please, I don't need a tool belt to be a legitimate hero."

"Oh, you're a hero now?" I ask, unable to contain my snarky-ness. "Transitioned from vigilante to hero pretty quickly."

"This isn't up for discussion." And to show me that she meant it, Batgirl darts forward, unhooking the utility belt from my body before I had time to react.

"Wait!" I cry in desperation. The new set of keys that the Cleaner gave me! They're in the utility belt! "My keys! My uh, house keys!"

"You put your house keys in the same belt that holds deadly weapons and explosives?" Batgirl asks dubiously. You can tell she doubts me.

"No really!" I plead. "If you're going to take the belt at least let me get my keys out of it."

She can't argue with my logic here and sighs heavily as she holds the utility belt horizontally for me as I search through the various pockets until the keys are once again in my possession.

"There, you've got your keys. Now go home. You don't need to be mugged again. You look shitty enough from the first time still."

"Gee, thanks. I love meeting supporters," I say dryly, pocketing the keys in my pants.

"Sarcasm isn't becoming, Ryder."

"Who says I was trying to be becoming?" I question with a smirk, my eyebrow quirking up almost instinctively.

"Almost everyone you meet…" she trails off, rubbing her temples under her cowl.

"Batgirl, that almost sounds like you've met me before!" I put a hand to my neck in mock surprise. "Could it be possible that we know each other when your cowl is off?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Batgirl chides, but even in the dim light of the night I can see the redness of her cheeks. I'd be embarrassed to if I had just given out vital information like that. But luckily I've been doing this vigilante thing for a lot longer than she has. I know the ropes better than she might ever, and that's a fact.

"Me? Ridiculous?" I shake my head with comically large movements, my inflections far too overdramatic to be serious. "Never."

Batgirl doesn't even give me a reply (other than a loud scoff) as she melts into the shadows in a way that would make even the stoic Bat proud. "What a great night," I mutter to myself, trudging the rest of the way to Carolina's motorbike. I was glad that when the Cleaner paid me for a job well done I put the money in my pants rather than in the utility belt. I'm sure Batgirl would've been suspicious as to why I was carrying around 1000 dollars (500 for tonight, and another 500 for keeping my mouth shut about the new hiding place of the drugs) even if I am a rich kid, albeit an orphaned one.

"Orphaned twice," I moan quietly. "Once by my parents, who couldn't really help it, once by Selina who may or may not have been able to help it… I'm just a bad luck magnet, aren't I?"

Thankfully nobody in the night replied. I don't know if I would've been able to take it if someone had. This day has been odd enough already, I didn't need more people telling me how screwed up me and my life were. Nope, that was Batman's job, and he was worked at it 24/7. I rubbed my cheek softly as I recalled my last encounter with the Dark Knight. My cheek was still slightly sore from where he'd hit me though I knew it wasn't near hard enough to make a bruise. I pondered to myself whether I should go out as Owlet and annoy the shit outta somebody to the point where they hit me in the face and caused a bruise. Maybe I could guilt Bruce into thinking it was his fault and possibly get some pity points, though they weren't exactly what I wanted. Pity points for me probably would've evened the score between me and Dick though. He always had Bruce's blessing, because they'd known each other since the kid was 8, so of course there's some father-son bonding thing going there. But I had known Bruce longer, shouldn't that count for something?

Maybe it was the fact that Bruce and Dick were around the same age when they both lost their parents, most likely giving them even more to bond over, besides the whole Dynamic Duo thing. The thought made me more jealous than I'd like to admit. I was just as good as Grayson in every sense. We were the same age and had matching sets of skills, as well as some to rival the others. We were both highly intelligent and on the right side of the law (well, arguably in my case) and we both had loyalties only to those we trusted. Yet it was Dick who was obviously the favorite between the two of us, a fact I didn't find fair in the least. What made him so much better than me?

"Nothing," I tell myself bitterly. "Absolutely nothing."

But it would obviously take more than a few words to fully convince me of an idea that I didn't have any proof for in the least.

* * *

><p>"Morning," Carolina greets as she waltzes into the living room where I am still tangled in blankets from my hour and a half of sleep. I can feel the dark bags under my eyes, but I muster up a convincing grin, doing my best to look welcoming as well as apologetic. I was far too harsh on her last night and I really did feel bad about hurting her feelings, but when you have to do what's necessary, feelings can't be taken into account. In the back of my head I wondered if this was how Dick felt about me.<p>

"Greetings and salutations," I yawn back. My body protests in pain and fatigue as I attempt to get up off the couch with the blankets still wrapped around me. Gravity then took advantage of the situation and pulled me back into the sofa cushions. They welcomed me like an old friend, cuddling against my back and arms.

"You look like hell warmed over," she tells me with a forced cheerfulness in her voice.

"You're not the only one to think that," I mutter under my breath, thinking of Batgirl yesterday morning. I really needed to go to a spa or something so people would quit telling me how awful I looked.

"Sleep well?" Carolina began to rifle around in the kitchen, probably making herself breakfast.

"Not quite. Stayed up for a while after you went off to bed but I guess I just couldn't really get to sleep," my half-assed excuse fell flat as I spoke it. But Carolina accepted it, perhaps she too wasn't as awake as she appeared to be and didn't catch my failed attempt to explain my exhaustion.

"Well that's too bad. You wanna take a shower here and get ready quick? Cuz your school starts in about an hour or so." She walked back into the living room with a bowl of cereal balanced in her hand as I groaned and flopped back into the cushions.

"I had completely forgotten about school," I mumbled grumpily. "Just what I need."

"You'll be fine." Carolina took a bite of the cereal and when she spoke again her words were muffled by the food. "Just remember that you don't have to be jealous of Richard, it's the other way around."

I rolled my eyes at this. Of course Carolina would think I'm referring to having to see Dick at school. And while that was part of the problem, it definitely wasn't the only one. First of all, I hated pretty much all of my teachers and their classes, with the exception of Ms. Dee, looking over the fact I have to sit by Dick. There was also the problem that the kids at school wouldn't leave me alone. You get mugged once and it's like you're some sort of international superstar at your private school. Or at least that's how it seemed to me. I was going to have to figure out a way to make them leave me alone again. Sure, the attention was pleasant at the beginning, when I was new to all of that popularity stuff, but now? Now that I have all of this stuff on my plates to deal with already? I don't need anything else stacked on top of the rest of it.

"Yea, sure," I replied distractedly, still lost in my thoughts. "Sounds good." Like a robot on autopilot I got up and trudged to the shower, quickly washing yesterday off of me before getting ready for school.

I ended up getting to school about 20 minutes late, and lucky for me my first teacher totally hated my guts so it wasn't like he wasn't going to give me a hard time for being really late to school, right? Um, no, way wrong.

"Well it appears Ms. Ryder has finally joined us," Prof. Caldwin announced loudly as I walked into class, a tardy sheet clutched in my hand. "Nice of you to come."

"Anytime, sir," I reply cheekily, watching his face turn beet red. He's still a bit sore from the verbal whiplash I'd given him when I'd come back from my month off and anything I said that wasn't 100% compliant and polite he found as a personal attack towards him and his teaching ways. I hope I don't get that uptight with a stick up my ass when I get old.

I took my seat next to Barbara, noticing she looked just as exhausted as I did, possibly more. "Long night?" I question her quietly as I get my textbook out and the Prof. continues lecturing about genetics and evolution.

"You have no idea," she mutters, vainly attempting to wipe the sleep from her eyes as she takes notes.

"Actually I think I know exactly how you feel." A perfectly timed yawn proves my statement. Barbara gives a small smile at this.

"So you do. What were you up to last night?"

_Oh, nothing much,_ I wanted to say. _I just helped out with a drug movement, got 1000 dollars richer, ran into Batgirl and she stole my extra utility belt._ As funny as it would've been to see Barbara's reaction to that statement I instead went with the much safer route. "Went to a huge party."

Barbara nodded as if she knew what I was talking about. "I stayed up waiting for my dad to come back from catching Bane."

As she says this statement I think two things immediately. Number One, I must seem like a total bitch for saying I know how she feels when I went to a party and she stayed up worried sick for her dad's safety. Number Two, Why didn't I hear about Bane rampaging the streets last night? You'd think that would've been something that would've made the 9 o'clock news. Of course, there's always the possibility that the police wanted to keep the situation quiet so that the panic level of the city would be decreased dramatically.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry to hear that. Did he come back ok?" I ask while looking down at my notes paper with shame, the evidence of it burning on my face.

Barbara nodded once again. "He came back find, but, we have to keep this between you and me ok?" Her voice took on a conspiratorial quietness. I nodded, fully ready to keep whatever secret she was about to bestow upon me. "Bane's still out there. He wounded a lot of cops and so far Batman hasn't done anything about it."

A mixture of fear, excitement and anger bubbled and boiled inside me like my stomach was a pot cooking some emotional soup. Fear at the idea of a madman luchador running around Gotham City, Excitement at the prospect of going after the villain myself, and anger at Bruce for not taking initiative to fix this problem before it got out of hand. I attempted to keep a grin from slipping onto my face as I forced myself to robotically reply "That's awful."

"I know. I wonder who's finally going to take him down." My lab partner took on a nostalgic look on her face as if imagining herself taking on the criminal. I tried to keep a snort down at the idea that Barbara could go up against the Spanish wrestler on Mega-Steroids.

"I dunno, maybe an underdog will come out of the mist and surprise us all." In my head I was referring to Owlet, because lately she's been sadly neglected in all things new-related. Which I suppose is good if I want my drug-trade infiltration mission to go successful, but I'm human, I can't help the fact that I like being on TV. Barbara apparently had a different idea about who this underdog might be though.

"Yea, it'd be impressive to see Batgirl give Bane the what-for," Barbara said while grinning and pantomiming some punches.

I barked out a short laugh. "Batgirl? She's only good for the small crimes, which are all important, too. But when it comes to the bigger profile stuff, she should just back down and leave it to the professionals."

"Oh really?" Barbara's eyebrow cocked dangerously over her clever green eyes.

"Yes, really. Nobody knows how skilled or unskilled this chick is. Maybe Bane will accidentally kill her because she wasn't ready to take on such a strong opponent."

"Well who do you think could win against Bane, besides Batman." Barbara said the sentence as if it were a challenge she was issuing me. I gracefully accepted it.

"I'd love to see Owlet go up against the creep, but she's not the only solo operator on the streets. There's always Huntress, she's pretty badass. And we can't forget those rumors floating around about kid liberators that are popping up all over the place in the slums." The last part of my statement wasn't quite 100% true. There had been lots of people saying things about kids kicking ass in the Narrows, but as of now no concrete evidence had been shown to prove this. But apparently kids with special talents had decided to take the law into their own hands and start taking down the smaller, less publicized crimes. If these rumors were true I'd bet my owl suit that these kids were just sick of feeling helpless in such a dangerous world. I understood the feeling all the way, but the thought of 12 year olds running around in tights not only made me cringe at the awfulness of the fashion, but horrified at the thought that their life could be ended in a split second with a crook and a gun.

"I highly doubt there are more kid vigilantes in the Narrows. Those rumors have been going on since Batman got Robin and that was years ago. Huntress might be able to take on Bane, she's usually pretty good with the "high profile" crooks, as you call them. But Owlet? C'mon, get real."

"I am real," I insisted, trying not to let my anger show. "Owlet's just as capable as Batgirl. Actually, she's more capable, I'm sure of it."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because she's been around longer, she actually knows what she's doing, and she's got a real costume, not a cheap one from last year's Halloween Clearance racks."

Barbara forced a laugh but her teeth were bared in a way an angry animals' would as if she took my opinion on Batgirl personally. "Oh sure, Mona. Pull the experience card."

"Well it's true!" I argue. Barbara only rolls her eyes at this as the bell rings, signaling the end of first hour. "Alright, fine, if you disagree then we can't just leave off here. You want to get some coffee after school and retaliate against my impeccable argument?"

"That actually sounds really fun, but after school I've got a date to go to." Barbara gave a cute little smile as she bit her bottom lip like an innocent little girl.

"Well, well, well, not as sweet and innocent as we look, are we, Miss Commish's Daughter! Who's the guy?" I inquired, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"Oh, nobody special." Her cheeks adopted a light pink hue. "Just Dick Grayson."

I felt like my stomach had sunken down to my shoes and splattered across the floor, intermingling with the millions of shards of my heart. Her and Dick? When was this ever established? Why didn't she tell me earlier? Why didn't _he_ tell me at all? My lungs decided not to function for a little bit and when I came back to reality I had to take a reflexively huge breath. I forced a pained smile onto my face that I was sure now looked quite wan. "That's great, hope you have fun."

Barbara seemed blissfully ignorant of my obvious pain and only smiled at me once more before walking to her next class. My 2nd and 3rd period classes went by rather quickly, like a flash really. I couldn't focus on anything but the fact that the guy I was secretly in love with was going on a date with one of my friends. I had never truly felt jealousy that appealed to the small portion of the loving part of my heart. Now that I had I was sure that it was the emotion I hated more than anything else I'd ever felt. I still couldn't wipe the feeling away as I trudged to MH class with feet of lead, wondering how exactly this period was going to turn out.

I shook Ms. Dee's hand like normal, taking my window seat at the back of the class, setting my bag on the floor by my feet, going through all the normal motions of sitting in 4th hour. But there was an undeniable urge of impatience in my stomach. I couldn't help the fact that I wanted to see him so badly even though I was furious at the boy. He came ambling in just as the bell rang to signify the end of passing time. He looked haughty and unimpressed with everything he saw around him as he took his seat next to me, not even acknowledging my existence.

"Alright, uh, students," Ms. Dee said distractedly, shuffling through papers at her desk and talking with her face towards the ground. "Just tell your partner what you did this weekend until I can find the lesson plan for today."

So Dick was forced to turn and look at me for what seemed like the first time in years though I had actually seen him yesterday. "Mona," he said simply.

"Dick," I replied evenly.

"You look like shit."

"At least that's just what I look like on off days. What's your excuse?"

He feigned being hurt with a hand put to his chest in mock surprise. "So hostile. What did I ever do to you?"

"Just shut up and tell me about your weekend," I snapped.

"Fine. Patrolled on Friday with B and Saturday by myself. Went to that party yesterday and met lots of pretty new friends," he paused as he listed the things off on his fingers. "Oh yeah, ran into a friend of yours Saturday night. Actually I think she was stalking me."

If I had been in a cartoon the area above my head would've had the biggest question mark hovering over it. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Some girl in a red cloak, couldn't see her face with the hood pulled up. I'm assuming she has some sort of meta-abilities including flight."

"What did she talk to you about?" I demanded. He was acting far too casually about this for my taste.

"Well, you of course. And boy was she pissed off. Who is she? Your girlfriend?"

And that, ladies and gentleman is the point in which I hauled off and punched Dick Grayson in the face. I felt my hand connect with his nose but I didn't feel any bones break beneath my fist, though his nose was now freely gushing blood. I could hear Ms. Dee's startled yelp as he was knocked backward out of his chair and onto the floor. He just sat there, calmly staunching the blood with his blue and green striped Gotham Academy tie, giving me a pointed look as if saying "_Now was that really worth it for you?" _In the long run it probably wasn't such a good idea, but right now when he had me all angry, it was totally worth it. I gathered up my bag and walked from the room, heading towards the office to tell them what I'd done.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is a good idea, Owlet?" Seer asks through the com link that I've set up for us. I give a heavy sigh.<p>

"Yes, I'm sure that it's a good idea because I came up with it. Anymore questions?" I snap through the line.

"Yea, I got another one." As we converse we are flying above the streets of Gotham, her using the powers she recently acquired and me using the man-made wings that I trusted with my life. "Who peed in your cereal this morning?"

"Would you just shut up and fly!" I can hear Carolina's snickers on the other line, but she says no more as we continue on flying. Our destination is the alleged hideout of notorious Gotham super-villain, Bane. My plan is simple. Get in there, kick some major ass, let the cops come, then get out of there. Well, that aspect of the plan is simple. Getting it to look like I'm still a villain while I'm doing something the good guys would do? Yea, that's going to be the hard part. I toyed around with the idea that if Seer and I set up the situation well enough we could make it look like Bane and Owlet had been in some sort of turf war and with the help of Owlet's sidekick/partner person, Seer, they took the villain down but fled as soon as the police arrived. I desperately hoped it would work, because even though that plan sounds easy to follow, it took me hours to get all the facts straight.

Now you might be asking, "Uh, why are you doing this? Bane has nothing to do with getting into the drug trading business and taking it down. You're just distracting yourself from your real mission, Owlet!" If you said something like this, or at least something along the lines of it, I have a couple of words that you need to know: Reputation and Pride. Otherwise known as a vigilante's two best friends. Taking down Bane would boost my street cred to a level that might be able to rival even that of the Riddler. And the pride part? Well let's just say the little argument in Biology got to me more than I was really letting on. Now I had something to prove to Barbara, Batgirl, Dick and Robin. They all needed to see that Owlet is strong, Owlet is capable, and Owlet is ready and willing to be a part of the action.

Of course, Seer probably thought I was just trying to protect my reputation, and I guess that was a big part of it. But there really was more to my thought process than just making myself look cool on my streets. I just didn't quite know the extent of said thought process.

"We're coming up on the Warehouse District," Seer announced, pulling me out of my contemplations. "I'm banking left, follow me down."

"I'm the one who gives the orders here," I tell her good-naturedly, attempting to make up for the snapping I'd done at her earlier. But still when she turned downward to land atop the place Bane was thought to be hiding. Nobody really knew for sure, but any guess was better than none. And it really did seem like a place an evil-doer would take refuge: abandoned, dark, creepy. It had everything a baddie could ever ask for.

And everything a good guy could ever ask for. The roof was coated with tar instead of rocks, letting our landing be practically silent. In the middle of the roof there was a perfectly placed skylight, glass already broken away from the thick supporting metal beams of the roof. I couldn't help as a large smile spread over my face. So far everything was going flawlessly. Now it was time to put my plan into action and see where it went. Hopefully, it would be in the right direction.

I attached a grappling hook to the metal supports and lowered myself down into the darkness of the warehouse. Seer followed, lowering herself to the ground with her powers. I wanted to say I wasn't at all a bit jealous of the fact that she could fly for real as well as predict the future among other things, but I'd be lying if I did. I brushed the envy away. If we wanted this mission to go successfully we'd both need to be focused. I detached myself from the grappling line, falling the foot or so to the floor, landing crouched down. I analyzed the room from my position, noting how deep and thick the darkness seemed to get as it shied away from the small shaft of moonlight the skylight was letting in. There was an ominous feeling that I couldn't shake off as I narrowed my eyes, hoping that something would come into focus as I did so.

Oh, something did. Just not quite the something I was hoping for. A large fist rushed at my face and if I hadn't had training from two of Gotham's best fighters, I would've had to get a new face right about now. I leapt out of the way, diving to the side and initiating a quick tuck and roll so I could get out of the way with minimal damage. A large roar echoed throughout the place and in the dim moonlight I was able to see the exact person I'd been looking for, the infamous and ugly Bane.

"Ready for this, Seer?" I asked through the comms unit low enough so that Bane couldn't hear us. The man gave a deafening roar, thrusting his muscled arms above his head as if he was feeling rather victorious. For what exactly, I had no idea and I'm sure it would've wasted quite a bit of time if we stopped to find out. Around Bane's unnaturally muscled body I saw my friend nod and we sprang into action.

Seer circled around him, melting enough into the shadows to where she couldn't be seen. Bane didn't pay any real attention to her as he focused straight onto me, glaring through his luchador mask. With his arms finally lowered into the pale moonlight, I could see the disgusting purple-green color his veins were, no doubt from the super-steroid Venom that he was even now being injected with. I slunk slowly to my right a few inches, seeing Bane at his profile now with the Venom serum being injected right into the base of his neck through a thick pipe that was connected to a sort of backpack type carrier strapped to his body. He could no doubt give himself a boost of the drug whenever he felt as if he were running low, thus giving the large man even more of an advantage over us.

But I'd heard a story from Boy Wonder himself that if Bane's constant supply of the drug was cut off, he'd revert back to the normal man he was before. Occasionally you'd hear that he'd actually get weaker once he was separated from Venom, but I didn't want to push my luck on the matter. It'd be good enough for us if he just turned back into a regular man. I could beat regular men, I did only a weekly basis. But right now, Bane was no regular man and that was our biggest problem, a problem that needed to be solved immediately.

"Hiya, Bane-y boy," I teased with an evil smirk on my face, the only part of my face visible through my now midnight black cowl. "You're looking awful, but I suppose anyone taking steroids that would kill an elephant will."

He let out a fierce roar as if he didn't like my teasing. I suppose it was a rather juvenile way to go about distracting the super-villain, but hey, it was effective so I can't complain. Bane shouted out something in Spanish that was so garbled through his steroid ridden vocal chords that even I, who had been taking Spanish for almost 4 years, couldn't understand him.

"Tú debes hacer un médico examinará a tu garganta," I replied cheekily. Translated that means "You really ought to make a doctor look at your throat." Sure, it's not the best comeback, but hey, it was translated on the spot in Spanish, so I think I did a fine job.

Bane uttered another yell as if he couldn't believe he'd been badly insulted by a teenager in Spandex. He made a lunge for me. I thought that I was smaller and faster than him he'd have to work much harder at catching me. But I underestimated the power of sheer muscle compared to simple speed. Bane shot at me like a bullet with unbridled velocity and I must've moved a few seconds too late because the powerhouse of a man trapped my left arm between his over-muscled forearm and the unforgiving concrete floor. The man smiled down nastily at me, another bit of incomprehensible Spanish rolling around in his throat as I widened my eyes beneath the cowl in pure terror.

I saw in his eyes what he was planning to do a millisecond before it actually happened. The devilish smirk didn't help much as he uttered another laugh like he was gargling rocks. His jerked the arm he was pinning my arm down with and for a second I felt nothing, as if Bane didn't actually do anything. And then the pain came. My arm flared up like it was doused in gasoline then set on fire. The constant pressure Bane was applying on it didn't help much, either. For a moment I was just overcome with the overwhelming pain of my new injury until I couldn't help myself and an ungodly scream left my throat, echoing in the empty warehouse. Bane only laughed heavily, darkly as if my pain was the funniest thing he'd seen in a long time.

At the sound of my scream Seer began to emerge from the shadows and though I couldn't see her face under the cloak I knew it held a look of sympathy and panic. I wasn't supposed to get hurt. This wasn't part of the plan! She rushed up behind Bane, neither of us quite knowing was she was doing. However Seer didn't get very far. Bane must've been expecting her to rush up from behind because he only thrust out a single, powerful kick, landing it square on her chest. I hear a sickening crack as Seer stumbled backward. From behind Bane I saw her give a few quick, shallow breaths and I knew that at least one of her ribs had been broken.

I was quickly beginning to see that we had greatly underestimated Bane and his capabilities. The man didn't rely on just strength and stamina, he was also shaping up to be not only intelligent but adaptive to the situation. And as of right now, Seer and I were over our heads. Bane let off my arm, still laughing as the ugly sound resonated in his lungs and chest cavity, booming almost like an explosion had gone off. He stood and towered above me, glaring down through his black and white lucho mask. His teeth were bared in something that looked like a cross between a grin and a snarl, I didn't quite know which it was more. All I knew is that the sight of it filled me with terror.

"¿Quienes necesita un medico ahora?" he chortled. I winced in not only pain from my arm but from the hit my dignity just took. He asked me "Now who needs a doctor?" I could say a lot of things about Bane, but I'd have to admit he's a pretty smart guy, with a twisted sense of humor.

Collecting my left arm and cradling it to my chest, I scooted back with the help of my right arm. Each few inches or so that I gained, Bane quickly compensated with the step of one of his large feet. He was playing a cat and mouse game, a deadly one where we both already knew the outcome. I pulled up my knees to my chest as Bane glowered down at me again. I took the time to notice how tall he really was, probably 7 feet with the Venom coursing through his veins. Compared to my sad little 5 foot status he literally towered over me, more than Batman ever could or will. I bit my lip as another shock of pain reverberated through my body, giving the slightest, tiny little nod.

And our plan was put back into action. From Bane's left side I saw Seer raise her hands, her face scrunching up in concentration where I could see it in the moonlight. She moved her hands a bit like she was casting some sort of spell or throwing an imaginary lasso. Immediately Bane's legs were bound together by an invisible force and jerked to the side, causing him to slam into the ground with the horrible sound of skin smacking into concrete. If I'd done that, the entire side of my body that had hit the ground would've been painted black and blue with bruises, but since the guy was still packing some major Venom in his system, I'm sure he barely felt the fall and that he wouldn't have any bruises whatsoever. I suppose that's just part of the highlights of having your body filled with poisonous and addictive steroids, though I was sure the liabilities far outweighed the benefits, at least if you were someone like me.

I sprung up from my spot, ignoring how much pain my arm was putting me in. Seconds later I was sprinting as fast as I could to find a spot to hide. Seer and I had Bane confused and preoccupied for a little bit, but that little parlor trick wasn't going to hold him for long. We needed another stunt, actually another few stunts, before we could get to a point in the fight where we were actually semi-hopeful that we would have a chance at winning this fight. My heart felt like it was beating faster than the speed of light in my chest and my panting breaths followed suit. I tried vainly to slow down my breathing because I knew that a loud target was an easy target and right now I felt like I was making enough noise to be a one person rock band. My panicked eyes flitted over the room and I caught sight of Seer on the other side of the room, tucking between a row of a random mound of abandoned crates. If I hadn't been looking for her she would've been completely invisible.

I didn't actually know if she could see me too, considering the fact that my cowl had enhanced eye slits so that I could focus like binoculars and especially see in the dark. I've got to be honest here, night vision is one of my most favorite things in the entire world. No doubt about it. When you've got a job like mine there is nothing more convenient than night vision in the dark. But anyway, since Seer doesn't yet have the benefits of night vision I had to just hoped she saw the words I mouthed. Sure, we could've taken Bane on if we were completely improvising the entire thing, but honestly team dynamics helped more than you'd think and right now, since we were both hurt and flustered about how bad our mission started off, we really needed some cohesion since we were fighting a one man army like Bane. For good measure I mouthed the words again, hoping that she could see me. It might've just been a trick of the night but I could've sworn she had nodded back. I hoped to a god I tried to believe in that she had. It would make this night go a helluva lot smoother.

Slowly and carefully I reached into my utility belt, fishing out a few pellets about the size of guinea pig food. I held them with a loose hand, not squeezing them in my palm because I knew that these things were extremely sensitive to pressure. Even the pouch in the utility belt that held them was padded so that when whoever was wearing the utility belt was jostled around (like me tumbling out of the sky after being attacked by Batgirl or shoved out of the way by any various number of people like I am on a day to day basis). I had to wait until the timing was just right, when Bane had his back turned on me enough so that he couldn't see where I was. If he could see me at all now then I'd have no chance to throw the pellets. The muscles in my right arm tensed up until it was painful just to stand there, holding the little pellets. Finally, Bane was angled good enough and I wound my arm up like the star pitcher of the Gotham Olympians and threw the pellets out in the middle of the room. The second they hit the floor they burst into a thick, vile smoke that choked my lungs even from all the way over here. Bane roared as it filled his throat and clouded his vision.

"Perfect," I muttered, taking as deep a breath as I dared and plunging into the thick smoke. For the most part the enhanced vision on the eye slits of my cowl helped me see through the smoke and ultimately see Bane. I took out a few Batarangs, aiming as carefully as I could for the moving target that I'd now been presented. The first few Batarangs zoomed past him, feet away, not near hitting the mark. If Bane had been moving slower the whole thing would've been so much easier for me. But I supposed that if things were easy for me then Bane would've put the Bat-cuffs on himself and sat outside and waited for the Police like a good boy. For a moment I entertained that mental image and a scary little cackle found its way out of my mouth, much like Robin's little battle laugh. Bane whirled around and lunged toward my direction but the smoke had made him misjudge the target. I was lighter and faster than he gave me credit for.

And apparently more agile, even with an injured arm. In the few milliseconds that passed as I dodged Bane's attack and he rushed at me, I was able to coordinate the palm of my right hand to extend a single Batarang, slicing my skin through my gloves as I did so, though I could worry about that later. As Bane passed by me I angled my body so that I faced his back, bringing my right arm down on the tube that connected his Venom source to the base of his neck and making a single killing stroke through the plastic pipe. Venom spurted just about everything, all over me and my suit and even into the cut on my palm. I yelped out in pain, dropping the Batarang to scamper away from the carnage just as the smoke was beginning to clear.

Once I could see everything clearly I could just make out the red and blue police lights as they danced through the slits of the boarded up windows around the building. Panic flitted across my face as I tried to spit out some Venom that had unfortunately found its way into my mouth and nose. We needed to get out of here and fast.

"Seer!" I shouted out, walking back towards the middle of the room. I didn't think I'd have to add my choice of times to walk to the list of things I did wrong tonight, but apparently it was going to go on there one way or another. My feet were kicked out from under me by a still barely conscious yet highly vicious Bane, who was now floundering in a growing pool of yellow-green Venom that looked like carbonated pus. I landed right next to him, the breath knocked out of me. I didn't even have time to catch it as one of his now not-so muscled arms shot out and grabbed me around the neck. I uttered a little choke as he gripped my trachea harder.

"La próxima vez, Búhita," he uttered with a groan, his grip on my neck losing its strength as he promptly passed out, now the size of a regular man. I gasped in air, doing my best to scoot away from him. A helpful hand pulled me up to my feet and I saw it was now Seer behind me. Her hood must've fallen down because all I saw was the curly blonde hair of my friend tied in a haphazard braid down her back, with many strands coming out and sticking to her sweaty skin. Her face was mostly covered by a cheap Halloween mask, probably for some sort of Zorro costume. She looked absolutely ridiculous but I accepted her help graciously as if she were a beautiful, god-sent angel.

I could hear the Police slamming against the doors, demanding to be let in. I shot a look to Carolina and tried to tell her that I couldn't fly. The only sounds that came from my throat were ugly croaking noises. I didn't know for how long, or how bad it was, but Bane's last act before losing consciousness had been to make me lose my voice. I motioned with my head to my left arm and how it now hung limp and uselessly by my side. She must've gotten the memo that I couldn't fly because her eyes closed in decisive concentration and before I could prepare myself, my stomach felt as if it had dropped to my feet as we rose into the air by way of Carolina's telekinesis. As we soared out of the skylight we'd entered through, the Police finally managed to get inside, storming the place with guns, most pointed at Bane but some actually pointed at us. But we were going too fast for them to get a good enough target to shoot at. Thankfully that one thing had gone right tonight. I turned my attention from the raided warehouse to the streets of Gotham zooming beneath us with sickening speed, speed that I had never even been able to fly at in these man-made wings. The sight was almost gut-wrenching but my trust in Carolina forced itself over the uncertainty and fear I felt at falling. For now I was safe. But as I closed my eyes, the only thing that rang in my head was Bane's last words to me before his Venom withdrawal had taken over his body:

_Next time, Owlet. _


	22. Out the Door

_Fanfiction is what literature might look like if it were reinvented from scratch after a nuclear apocalypse by a band of brilliant pop-culture junkies trapped in a sealed bunker. They don't do it for money. That's not what it's about. The writers write it and put it up online just for the satisfaction. They're fans, but they're not silent, couch-bound consumers of media. The culture talks to them, and they talk back to the culture in its own language._

—_Lev Grossman July 18, 2011_

AN: I found that quote on Wikipedia of all places, but I thought it really summed up what we at FanFiction do. At least, I think it describes what I do. I write for me, but I also write for the people who wanna hear it.

And yeah… have you guys had a good week? I haven't, my boyfriend dumped me the first day we got back from Spring Break. Jerk. But whatever, right? Sorry to complain, but I'm only human. Please enjoy this chapter, I'm trying to incorporate ALL of the possible suggestions I've gotten, but it's gonna take more than one chapter, so this is just part one of what you guys have asked for, more is to come, soon I promise, for real this time!

Oh, hey I don't own anything, especially since I totally quoted Batman Begins in here. I own Mona, obviously and Carolina. But they're it.

Out the Door

I've never had a broken arm before today, and I think I could've happily gone a lot longer without breaking it. But thanks to Bane that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. The pain was pretty nearly excruciating and the waves of pain that continually washed over made it almost impossible not to pass out in a forgiving sleep of both exhaustion and necessity. It was probably around 1:30 by now and I hadn't been able to get any sleep at all after school. I was too busy planning this out, but I guess I didn't plan well enough.

A slight jostle from Carolina caused me to intake quickly in a shocked and pained gasp. She shot me an apologetic look but I knew that she was in pain as well and this couldn't have been any easier for her. Yet here she was, flying us away from the sight of our first fight with a real Gotham Costumed Villain (Hey, it's a GCV! Yea, I know, lame), a fight that, even though we were injured and tired and sore after it, we actually won. Bane was now in Police custody and no more Gotham officers would get injured because of him. That little fact made the broken arm seem a little less serious, but I knew that both Carolina and I needed to get help soon, before we both passed out simultaneously.

"Where do we go?" Carolina asks quietly. Her voice is breathy and I'm pretty sure that one or two of her ribs are broken. She looks down at me fearfully and even through the mask in the dim light of the moon attempting to stream through the smoggy sky of Gotham, I can still see her green eyes. They're wide and scared like a little kids would be.

"Bruce," I croak as best I can through my crushed vocal chords. My voice sounds like a frog being strangled in space, but it's the best I can muster.

I'm surprised when Carolina shakes her head. "We can't go to him."

I'd try to speak again, but the pains in my throat and in my arm don't feel like contesting with one another and I settle with a confused look to my friend.

Carolina gives an exasperated sigh that's quickly followed by a look of agony across her face. But she pulls through it faster than I'd expect her to. "What if someone saw us, first of all? What would they think of Owlet and some girl in a cloak going to Bruce Wayne's house in the middle of the night? And won't he be on patrol right now, or at least now at the warehouse helping with Bane? And who says he wants to help you, Mona? I don't know exactly what happened the last time you guys met, but I can sense that it wasn't happy, and that you don't know if he really trusts you."

If I wasn't already automatically speechless I would've been after Carolina's little rant. She was right on pretty much all of the accounts, which surprised and shocked me, though I supposed it might've had to do with the fact that she was always clever and observant. Or it could've been due to some weird new-new power she was developing that even she didn't know about yet. The thought of the latter suggestion made me both worried and excited for my friend, but it was something I'd have to dwell on later. We needed help now.

"Who… do we… go to?" I rasped as best I could. The words sounded human enough to count as conversation.

"I have one idea, but I have no idea if they'll help us. We haven't seen each other for a few months now…" Carolina trails off, biting her lip in anxiety and pain. She pulls out a cell phone that I hadn't known she's had on her person. If my arm wasn't broken and my vocal chords crushed, I would've been chewing her out for bringing a phone on a mission. But at the moment it actually seemed to have a use. She decidedly dialed and promptly someone picked up.

Their conversation was too hushed for me to hear, but I knew that it was going well because of the relieved smile that was beginning to creep onto Carolina's face. They continued to talk for a few minutes longer and I couldn't help but marvel at the way Carolina multi-tasked by being able to keep us still in the air and carry on a conversation at the same time. It might've just been my pain and leftover adrenalin talking, though. I had been known to get a little weird whenever I was in one extreme of feelings of the other.

After a while Carolina hung up, giving a little sigh, hopefully from relief. I didn't miss the look of pain on her face though as she exhaled. Her ribs were definitely broken, and if we weren't careful she could accidentally puncture a lung. The seriousness of the situation was finally beginning to hit me. We could have died back there, fighting Bane. We could die right now, in all honesty though the thought is morbid. Who knows if we have internal bleeding or a concussion from one hit or another?

It was easier to just not think about it all, to just block it all out and pretend that none of this had ever happened. That we weren't hurt, that I wasn't a secret vigilante and had dragged my friend into it with me, that my former best friend wasn't making moves on the girl I sat next to in Biology, that my life was relatively normal. Even though it was stupid and childish to pretend that my life was ok, it was a nice break from the events that were actually happening, the events that were slowly tearing my life apart, shredding the little bits of humanity I had left. Really, it was better not to think about any problems, because they added to the metaphorical pain and I had enough physical pain to do for a long while. I don't let any other thoughts plague me as we fly the rest of the trip in silence.

When we arrive at Carolina's friend's trailer, I was, the least to say, completely shocked. My friend, daughter of two brilliant scientists, one of the richest teenagers in Gotham City, and her friend is living in a trailer? I'm not a very prejudiced person, but I didn't expect the person who was going to help us to live in a place like this. But as Carolina and I approached the home of her friend, descending down from the sky, I saw some words painted on the side of the trailer, that was now looking more like a bus as I saw it parked in a downtown alley between a café and a night lounge that I'd never been in.

_This "friend" is a performer? _I think. How in the world is a performer going to help with broken bones?

We didn't even get to the trailer before someone ran out of the shadows. It was a girl about our age, maybe a little older with black hair that melted into the night and blue eyes, not quite the shade of Dick's, more of a sky blue rather than a vibrant blue. But she has a kind smile, something I notice immediately, that would probably look a bit more mischievous if she didn't have concern written all over her face. She quickly yet gently pulled us into the travelling bus, down a narrow hall until we got to the tiny equivalent of a bedroom. It contained a single bed with a window above it and cabinets right above our heads. The three of us fit comfortably enough inside the room, though, me and Carolina on the bed while the black haired girl stood in front of us.

"Whatever you guys got into, it looked like fun," she said wistfully with just enough longing in her voice to tell me she was serious about the fun part. Now that she is in the complete, though still dim, light of this room, I can see she's wearing a strange outfit, like a female magician, though almost like something a playboy model would wear. She turns to Carolina who is now slipping off her Halloween mask and throwing it on the floor. "Now what seems to be the problem?"

I mentally applaud the girl for keeping calm in this situation. I mean, she has 2 vigilantes sitting in her house/trailer/bus thing in the middle of the night, both hurt and bloodied up. Yet she doesn't bat an eye, only looks back and forth between the two of us to assess our injuries.

"I think I have a few broken ribs, and Owlet here got her vocal chords crushed and has a broken arm," Carolina's ashamed explanation made us sound like little kids who were messing around somewhere we shouldn't have been. "Oh, and Owlet is doused in a dangerous chemically enhanced super-steroid. But that's the least of our problem right now."

The girl taps her chin thoughtfully. I could swear she mutters under her breath something about her remembering Owlet with a grey costume about a month ago, but she doesn't voice any disbelief as to who I am or who Carolina knows me. "Well, the broken bones I can fix, but the vocal chords might be kind tough for me. I've never practiced with these types of spells. I wouldn't want to accidentally make you mute for the rest of your life." She's too matter of fact about all this for me, too collected as if this is routine, a very odd and slightly disturbing routine. "Oh, you also seem to be bleeding through your cowl," she tells me, pointing to the area above my right eyebrow. "If we don't clean that it could get infected with your weird super-steroid stuff."

I turn to look at Carolina but her eye lids are drooping as she sways tiredly back and forth in her spot. She looks like she's about to pass out ad I just realize that using her powers for so long could really take a lot out of her. Lina looked completely exhausted, pale with dark bags beginning to creep up under her eyes. As soon as I see the state she's in, I know what I have to do.

I give a short nod, hoping this girl understands that I meant something along the lines of "I'll take the cowl off later. Help Carolina right now." She must understand what I'm saying because she returns the nod and sits down on her knees in front of our friend. Lina doesn't even look like she's aware of anything around her or even where she is anymore. She looks drained and completely out of it as if she's about to faint. The black haired girl puts her hands on her temples, eyes closed to ensure maximum concentration. In an instant her eyes snap open and from her mouth spits some odd words that I've never heard and have no chance of understanding: "Dnem reh senob!"

I hear a tiny little series of snaps, like Legos being put together. Carolina utters a little yelp like a kicked dog, pain clouding over her features before she slumps over onto the bed, completely unconscious, most likely from the pain. I'm sure there's a shocked expression written all over my face as I watch the events happen, though as I see the gradual rise and fall of her chest as she breathes I let myself relax a little. A look of relief finds its way onto my face before I try to make it as stoic and plain as possible. If I was going to have to take off my cowl in front of this girl I at least wanted to retain my reputation as Owlet for as long as I possibly could.

First, however, she took my left arm with gentle fingers, wincing a little as she noticed the awkward and broken angles it was hanging at. I flinched in pain, biting my tongue to keep from crying out as she cautiously prodded the shattered bones. She looked a little worried as she kept examining my arm and just as I was beginning to get nervous that she wouldn't be able to fix it, out of her mouth come the words "Xif siht mra!" The bones seem to all simultaneously crack into their places and quite frankly it feels like it's being re-broken, though I know what she's doing is actually helping me. I can't help but give out a chocked dry sob of pain as my bones are realigned. Immediately after that, however, the pain subsides. I look down at the arm that only minutes before had been mangled and useless. It looks relatively normal now, all the joints bending in the proper spots, no odd lumps hiding beneath my skin. I flex my fingers experimentally, seeing that they work like a dream, if that dream was of perfect fingers (And who actually dreams of fingers anyway?). My unbelieving eyes find their way to the girl's sky blue ones and though she can't see mine through the cowl, I know she understands my conflicted disbelief and gratitude.

"Don't mention it," she says with a smile. "It was fun. I hardly ever get to practice my powers for things that matter anymore." She shakes her head, smoothing down the button up shirt of her uniform. "It's always just a show these days, papa doesn't understand that I could be like him without consequence." I open my mouth in hopes to give an inquisitive noise, but the girl seems to be one step ahead of me, already answering my unasked question. "My father is Zatara, the great magician and Justice League member." She rolls her eyes at the combination of the two titles. I can tell that if I had known this girl as normal Mona, we'd be very good friends. "He'll let me work in show business without a problem, but whenever I bring up the topic of fighting in the field, using my powers for good instead of just entertainment, he always clams up, telling me that I'm too young for this." She gives me a pointed look, analyzing my costume and cowl not unkindly. "You're the same age as me and you're doing fine on your own. Well, mostly fine." She allows a little smile but it's lacking the mischievous energy it had when we first saw her. Instead this one looks broken and sad, demoralizing, somehow very human.

"You'd do fine," I try to say. It ends up coming out like "Yahh dew fiiiiine." She gets the gist of it, though and lets a more sincere smile peek through her exterior.

"Try telling my dad that." She gives a little laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder idly. "I swear, if he'd just let me go out once to prove what I can do, he'd be totally gung-ho for the whole superhero thing. And I already have an outfit." She stands and spins for me, modeling what I assume to be her costume for her stage performances. "But as of now, I'm never getting out there." She huffs, obviously frustrated, and my heart goes out to her, even though she's acting a bit childish. I know what it's like to feel helpless and insignificant in the world that we live in, and I don't think it's fair that she has to feel this way even when the chance to do otherwise is already presented to her. Though another aspect of unfairness crosses my mind as I think about her dilemma; the fact that she actually has someone to be worried for her is great incentive not to go out as a superhero. If she was an orphan with only the memory of her dad's overprotectiveness, I'd tell her to go for it all the way. More power to her, you know? But the fact that she has a dad who obviously cares for her and loves her very much, that fact keeps pulling me away from the idea that she should don a metaphorical cape and cowl.

"That's enough moping for me anyway, I'll find someone else who isn't injured to complete my therapy session." She shakes off the disappointment and I find it extremely hard not to value her sense of dry humor and wit, all delivered with utmost seriousness mixed with a light tone. "Should we have a look at that scratch?" She leaves the question out in the open, for me to decide whether or not to remove my cowl. On the one hand, I don't know this girl and I'd be giving her my secret identity (which too many people knew already). But on the other hand, if I didn't get her to treat my cut, it could get infected as she said, and people would be asking questions about the big ugly gash on my forehead that I could've had healed within a few seconds. I finally decide on the hard choice with the easier outcome: Removing my cowl.

The biometrics system inlaid in the cowl recognizes my body readings even through the gloves I wear, allowing me to slip the cowl off easily. I can feel my hair sticking to my face with sweat and blood and leftover Venom that spurted from Bane's cut tube. I'm dying to take a shower but I know I'll have to wait until later to do so. There is a time and a place for everything, and here was not the time or place for me to take a shower. I shook my bangs from my eyes, casting them down to the ground as if I were embarrassed. The girl gives a little click of her tongue and I'm forced to look back up at her due to my own curiosity.

"Mona Ryder, eh? I never actually expected that. You've been lying pretty low as Mona, besides that whole mugging stint. But that wasn't really the true story, was it? That was just the cover up! Okay, now that's a great idea. You must be some kind of genius to have come up with that story." Even if I did have my voice I wouldn't have stopped her from giving me compliments on keeping my secret identity, well, a secret. I wasn't about to tell her that most of it was Batman's idea and that I was just being a convincing actress and carrying out my role.

"Hey, whatever happened to that Fincher guy? He got caught, right? That's why we don't hear about all the amazing things he does for the world through HAVEN?" She doesn't miss my expression darkening at the mention of his name. "Oh, so it's not that good. Probably not that simple either." I give a short nod of my head. "Well, maybe sometime we can talk about it all. You look like a person who's holding in a lot of monsters, Mona." She rifles around in the cabinets above us before coming down with a small slip of paper and a pen, quickly writing a number down on it and handing it to me. I slip it into my utility belt. "Whenever you need to talk, or really when you actually can, give me a call." I look down at the slip of paper, seeing on the digits she scrawled. Once again I don't miss the fact that I don't actually know what this girl's name is. But before I can ask, or attempt to, she's working on the cut on my forehead, muttering a few of her strange words under her breath. All I feel this time is some uncomfortable itching as my skin seems to stretch itself back over the wound, though I know that's not quite possible. I have to admit, after seeing this girl mend broken bones in an instant, my definition of possible and impossible have been twisted and turned a little bit.

The girl leaves the room for a moment and comes back with a wet rag, allowing me to wash off my face. I see all the grime of the night leaving my skin and it makes me feel refreshed, like a new person. I can't help the smile that creeps onto my face, a smile of gratitude but also a smile of purely appreciating being around someone so worldly and personable such as this girl. After I'm through washing my face she retreats from the room once again, this time returning with a few slices of bread and two glasses of water for me and Carolina, who was just beginning to come to. We eat and drink the meager meal thankfully, both of us silent through mouthfuls of bread. After Carolina's little nap she looks a lot better, her skin returning to its normal peachy shade, and her face devoid of pain.

"We can't thank you enough," Lina gushes, and although I hate to be dependent on other people, I can't help but to admit she's right.

I clear my throat carefully, causing both of them to turn and look at me for whatever I have to say. The water helped soothe my throat quite a bit and when I speak it doesn't sound too much like gargling marbles anymore. "We really can't thank you enough. I'm surprised you agreed to help us, what with my reputation around here." After my few sentences my throat completely gives up once more, and I'm back to my speechless glory.

"Reputation?" the girl asks. It's obvious she's not from Gotham City. Even though the news isn't televising it, everyone knows Owlet has gone rogue these days. There are many rumors; most are false, though some actual hold partially true, but they all have the same gist: Owlet is a used-to-be vigilante, now turned criminal. Maybe that's why so many people are praising Batgirl like she's the next Messiah.

"Around here Owlet is thought of as a 'bad guy'," Carolina explains, using air quotes like she's talking to a little kid. "She works with a drug dealer, but that's just to get inside the operation, to shut it down from the core." I elbow Lina in the arm but she ignores me.

The girl gives a long groan. "That sounds like even more fun than just being the good guy!" she complains but it sure helps put a smile on my face. There are so many times that I doubt whether or not I'm doing the right thing by double crossing the Cleaner and acting as a double agent. But with one wistful sentence, this girl has restored all my faith in myself that I never really knew I'd lost. She may have literal magic, but she's also got the figurative kind, and I'm finding out that it's just as helpful, if not more. I could go on as Owlet after the months or so my arm finished healing. But without my spirit, without my drive and my confidence, there is no Owlet, even if my body is perfectly healthy. This girl seems to understand that, and she is more than willing to help me gain back what I've lost.

I can't express my gratitude through words, so I simply smile at her, not the fake smile I've been working on for interviews, but the real smile that only few ever get to see, the real smile that my parents used to evoke in me, the real smile that is the tell-tale sign that I am truly happy, truly grateful. The girl accepts her paltry thanks rather graciously, doing a small little curtsy/bow. You can really tell she's in show business with that move.

"We still can't thank you enough, but we should really get going. One of us has to go to school in the morning." Carolina stands, returning her cheap Halloween mask to her face. I follow her suit, slipping my cowl back on. It almost feels like a comfortable hat that my head had been missing.

"Don't mention it, seriously. My life is so boring with the tour we're on; I needed something to break up the monotony. Good thing we were in Gotham tonight though. It was a really great coincidence," the girl replies. Carolina laughs a little bit.

"Oh, it wasn't a coincidence that I knew you would be in Gotham. I had a really strong feeling that you would be, and I guess I was right." Lina's friend looks perplexed but doesn't push the subject. She too must think we've overstayed our welcome, though it might also be because she just didn't feel like pushing the topic tonight.

"If you say so," she replies with a click of her tongue. Most would say she sounded doubting, but when you have the power to heal bones and wounds with a few words, it must be very difficult to be a naturally doubting person, unless given good reason to.

We all file out the trailer, Lina in front with the girl bringing up the rear. As soon as we're outside I can't help but give a little sigh of relief. I never quite liked small places, sure I could deal with them, but I really loved being out in the open, where I could see everything and I didn't have to worry about anything coming out to get me. Carolina said her goodbye to the girl with a warm hug and words of well-being. Soon it is my turn as Carolina steps away. The girl turns to me and I expect a handshake or a "See ya!" but she too gives me a hug and I'm surprised that it isn't too awkward to return. We spend a few more minutes giving our goodbyes to one another before it starts to grow quieter and quieter. Just as Seer and I ready to take off into the night, the girl pulls me aside with seriousness written all across her face.

"Remember what I said," she warns. I must give a confused look even through the cowl because she sighs. "Even though there may be monsters inside of you, they aren't the things that define you." She predicts my next question of "Then what does?" and answers it quickly as if she's read my mind. "It's what you do that defines you."

Her words touch me deeply in a way that is hard for even me to describe and I don't know how else to react other than to pull her into another hug. She doesn't resist, hugging me back as if we've been friends for years instead of for an hour or so. When we pull away I strain my voice to ask the question that's been bugging me from the moment Carolina even mentioned she had a friend who could help. "Who… are you?" I croak. She smiles mischievously, pointing behind me at the travelling bus that she lives in. Now that the clouds have shifted, there is enough moonlight to read what the words on the side say: The Most Talented Father-Daughter team Magic Has Ever Seen: Zatara and Zatanna!

After that it all clicks in my head. Zatanna, I know I've heard that name before, possibly on a TV show or on the news somewhere. But I know I've heard of her. It now doesn't surprise me that Carolina knows her. They probably met and worked with each other in California while Carolina lived there. Now that everything makes sense, I turn to look back at Zatanna, ready to thank her once more, but I only find that she is gone, disappeared into the night. A little smile lights up my face as I think; _You're not the only one who can do that, Zatanna. _And soon Seer and I are off into the air, headed home to retire for the night.

And God knows we deserve it.

* * *

><p>You know what I hate waking up to? The phone ringing, I mean, c'mon. Why does anybody need to talk to me at an unholy hour in the morning? Am I really that necessary to get in touch with that you must call me right at this moment? I mean, really?<p>

And guess what I wake up to in the morning right after 2 or 3 hours of sleep? If you said a phone ringing, ladies and gentleman, you're right! The sound pierces my ears as I roll over on the couch, my legs slipping off to aid me into a kneeling position, which then allows me to move into something that will have to pass as a standing position. I stumble across the short expanse from the living room in Selina's apartment to the kitchen, where the phone is located. As I take it off the cradle I don't even have time to think of what I'm going to do because I can't talk when the person on the other line begins having enough conversations for 12 of us.

"You're supposed to be at school, aren't you?" Carolina asks shrilly. Her voice hurts my ears, I'll admit it. Right now it's the most annoying thing in the world, right after ringing telephones. Actually, no, they're tied.

"Suspended," I croak, rubbing my neck as if I'm hoping to soothe my vocal chords. My mind flashes back to yesterday and how I punched Dick in fourth hour. It'll probably come back to bite me in the butt sometime soon, but for now it's not all that bad.

"For what?" Lina demands. "You know what, don't even reply, I'm coming over. I'll be there in a few minutes." She hangs up once again before I can get a word in. I groan and hang the phone back on its cradle, leaning against the wall with my back, slowly sliding down it till I'm sitting on the floor, solely supported by that single wall. I really wished Carolina didn't think she had to come over. I was perfectly capable of wasting an entire day by myself. I didn't need her suggestions, or her help, yet here she was offering it. I suppose I should be happy about that, though. A few months ago I didn't have any friends to be annoyed at, and now I have a super-powered one. Some people are just lucky, I guess.

I must've dozed off in my spot on the floor because the next thing I know there is a rapid knocking coming at my door in machine-gun like bursts. I groan something that must equate to "Come in" because Carolina is charging in through my door, messily dressed with her hair still dirty from the night before. This was the first tip off that something weird was going on. Carolina washed her hair every single day. It didn't matter if it was summer time and there was a drought, it didn't matter if we were out camping somewhere as little kids. Wherever we were, whatever we were doing, she washed her hair. But apparently not last night. The other thing that seemed off about Carolina was how she was dressed. I'm not saying Carolina dresses like a model or anything, but she was brought up in a rich environment with a family who didn't see anything wrong with doting on her. Right now, though, she was wearing a ratty v-neck t-shirt with coffee stains on it as well as a pair of sweatpants with holes in the knees like someone had decided to take a pair of scissors to them. Her shoes were a pair of running shoes that she'd probably never worn before, all with a zip up sweater that was two sizes too big thrown over it. To be honest, she looked like crap, and that was overlooking the dark bags under her eyes and the overall paleness of her complexion.

"You're suspended from school?" she asks slightly out of breath. I wonder if she used her powers to get over here or if she ran to look less conspicuous (so would that be… spicuous?). "What the hell did you do?"

I give a crooked little smile, and, just this once, I wish Lina could read my mind so I could show her what I did to get suspended. She would've enjoyed my hauling off and punching Dick almost as much as I did. But I had to make do with my damaged vocal chords. I cleared my throat, feeling like I was gargling glass, and said "Punched Dick."

After I see the relieved smile graze her face I know that she understands. In my position I'm sure she would've done the same thing. "Oh, ok, and here I was thinking you'd done something bad." I tried my best to laugh but it was more of a dry, cracking sound. It made me cringe as I listening to myself. "How long are you suspended?" I hold up two fingers and she nods, walking past my spot on the floor to get to the kitchen. "I'm going to make some tea for your throat. Do you know where she keeps the honey?" I point her in the direction of a few cabinets next to the fridge and she starts busying herself with making the tea.

I must not have been quite awake enough to realize this before, but now that my brain is actually functioning I see that if I have a few days off, and Carolina doesn't have anything to do, then we can use the time for something useful! But whatever for… and then it hits me. I try to snap my fingers though I fail horribly at it (it's something I've never been good at) as an imaginary light bulb goes off above my head. There's only one thing that we'd really need to use today and tomorrow for, and it's not free time for Carolina and Mona, it's training for Owlet and Seer!

Jumping up from my spot, I ignore Carolina's call of surprise, sprinting to my room to get a pad of paper and a pen. Running back to the kitchen I began to scrawl a messy explanation to Carolina about what we're going to have to do today. Once I finish and she takes a few necessary minutes to decipher my handwriting, she looks up with a smile on her face. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that? This is the perfect opportunity to learn to work together better! You can teach me some offensive and defensive moves and I can give you some practice on how to fight against a meta! This is great! Mona, you're a genius!"

I shrug modestly, a little smirk lighting up my face. I know I'm a genius, it's a trait not usually commented on, but always present, and one that comes in handy quite often when I'm suited up as Owlet. In the field it's always better to work smarter, not harder, something that dumber rogues like Solomon Grundy and Killer Croc don't understand. They think that if they just use their brute force that we'll never be able to beat them. But look at what happened last night. Two little sticky, shrimp-y girls, one without superpowers, took down Bane when he was all Venom-ed up. I mean, c'mon, if that's not a great example, then I just plain can't give you one.

"… so how does that sound?" I only catch the tail end of whatever Carolina had said to me. She must've been babbling the entire time that I was thinking about me being a genius. I flush red as she gives me an exasperated look when she figures out I wasn't paying any attention at all. "Just drink your tea. I'll be back in an hour, okay? And then we can start training." I nod mutely as she hands me the mug then leaves my apartment as quickly as she came in. I look down at the amber brown colored liquid in my cup. The steam rising from the tea warms my face and I the earthy smell is actually appealing to my empty stomach. I take a sip, letting the tea burn my tongue before sliding down my throat, soothing the muscles as it travels down like a warm wave. You can say a lot of things about Carolina, like how she can be bossy and oversensitive and occasionally a little bitchy, but she can make a damn good cup of tea.


	23. Eyes Open

AN: So I posted the first part of this chapter a few days ago, but I wasn't satisfied with it. So wrote some more, hope it's better this time. Sorry about that first piece of crap, this one is more than twice the length, and it's now the longest chapter I've posted instead of the shortest one. Enjoy -UF

Eyes Open

"WATCH IT, FREAK!" the shout was lost behind me as I hopped from car roof to car roof during the 9 o'clock traffic. Apparently my action of using his car as a landing and take-off surface was seen as insulting and possibly hurtful. I turned to give him a devilish smile through my cowl, flipping expertly from the roof of a truck to the top of a tour bus. I could hear gasps ringing out through the air accompanied with the snap of cameras. I had no idea why anybody would want to tour Gotham. The names of possible tourist traps began to pop into my head, "Come see the place where the Joker massacred an entire police squad!" or possibly "This is the exact place where Harvey Dent turned from justice driven Defense Attorney to a murderous villains with face problems! Please, no pictures, ladies and gentlemen." These people must've thought I was either some promotional stunt for a casino or a club, or an actual villain trying to get away from my pursuers.

However if they looked behind me they'd only see another figure dressed all in black like me, with a ski mask instead of a cowl. We could've been twins from all these people could tell. Except the second figure wasn't hopping from car to car, they were _flying_ over the stuffy downtown traffic. I could practically hear the internal gasps of the tourists as they switched their focus to the flying ninja instead of the grounded one. I sighed to myself. Figures, you give them one toy that they just throw away when a new one comes along. I took the chance to get away from the makeshift photographers, leaping off the tall bus to a carefully calculated jump into the bed of a truck in front of the bus. I had noticed that it was filled with sand, a landing that would be much beneficial to someone normal like me, who didn't quite have the luxury of soaring above the other normal people of Gotham.

The jump appeared to have been not quite as calculated as I'd intended. The tour bus slowed down dramatically as I had run to make my jump. I was off by a few feet, but it was enough to end me up flailing in the air like an idiot as I fell towards the pavement. I knew I wouldn't die if I just fell to the ground from here. The bus was only about 8 or 10 feet tall. But I knew that once I hit the ground, I'd immediately get run over by the car following the truck. And something told me that I wouldn't be doing much surviving after that. Just as I was prepping myself for sure death, I felt an invisible force seem to give me a hand, propelling me the couple of feet I needed to get to the bed. I looked back at the flying figure who gave me a smile through her ski mask and a thumbs-up for all to see. Now everyone knew we were working together, which didn't bother me much.

"Why don't you try car hopping? It's easier than it looks!" I yelled up to Carolina as I jumped from the truck to an empty tractor. "Besides, the practice will be good for you!"

"How much farther is it?" she asked back, doing some fancy flip in the air to avoid a traffic light. I could hear the explosive "Ooohs" and "Ahhs" from the tour bus as she did so, as if she were some performer only here to entertain them.

"'Bout 14 miles," I say with a grin like the distance is no big deal.

"I think I'll just stick around up here," she replies, giving me a little laugh.

"Fine then, be lame." I scowl up at her, turning in front of me to see an upcoming banner strewn across the street tied to two lamp poles. An idea smacks me in the face harder than a slap from Batman. "Get into Formation X!" I screech. "I wanna see if this'll work!"

"Wait, which one is Formation X?" Carolina cries back, but I ignore her, hoping she figures it out soon enough to make sure my life is still save enough for another day. I take a few steps back on the empty trailer, launching myself into a tight sprint as I leap onto the bed cover of the truck, continuing onto the top of the cab before I hurdle into a strong leap. My trajectory this time is flawless. I latch onto the streetlamp on the right side of the street, hanging onto a horizontal pole used to hold up the banner. My momentum carries me into a perfect twirl abound the bar and I end up tucking my legs in so that I can plant my feet on the bar. I'm only standing on it for a moment before fighting to keep my balance as I run across the thin rope that the banner's strung up on. Just as I'm in danger of losing my balance, my adrenalin rush, my nerve, or all three, Carolina finally figures out what Formation X is. She rushes up to catch me as I reach the middle of the banner. Her forearms hook me under my armpits and she flies up far over the people still stuck in traffic, most of which are now forgetting to drive to ogle up at us.

"Nice," I comment as she pulls me higher into the smoggy sky of Gotham. "For a second there I thought you were gonna let me fall."

"Thanks," she says with a grimace. "And don't assume that I didn't think about it." I grin as we speed past the rooftops of Gotham. Though I'd never say it aloud, I was 100% jealous that Carolina could fly. It was something I'd always wanted to do as a kid and was an aspiration that obviously continued on well into my teenager-hood. Sure, I had the owl-suit to use, but it would never be the same as actually have the power of flight. I stooped in my envy for a little while as we flew, my arms getting cramped from being in the odd position for longer than a little while (which any little kid knows to feel like a century).

"Are we just going to fly all the way there?" I ask with a pout to show I'm not pleased.

"You have a better idea?" she asked.

"I was hoping to show off my mad skills to all the commuters of Gotham City. And it was giving me a nice warm up for our work out today."

"Well your warm up was taking too long."

"Sorry that I don't have mystical magical powers that allow me to fly," I say bitterly. Some of my hidden jealousy leaks out.

"Don't forget I can see the future and put images into people's minds," Carolina chimes in. "And it's not actually flying, it's just my telekinesis being applied to myself."

"Oh yes, how could I forget all your other powers and the proper names for them," I drawl boredly trying to hide my little-kid like resentment.

"You know, I could drop you right now and you couldn't do anything about it."

I make a noise like a wrong buzzer on a game show. "Actually I've got my grappling gun tucked into my socks, so don't you go calling me damsel in distress here. You're not the only one with tricks."

"No, you're the only one with tricks. I'm the only one with powers."

"Tricks require skill."

"Powers require training and strict practice."

"… I look better in black than you do."

"Touché," Carolina praises. "You may have won this battle, but the war is far from over, grasshopper."

"Oh, now I'm the grasshopper?" I let out a laugh. "And here I was thinking I was the one who was going to be teaching you how to fight on Gotham with the help of Batsy's tools."

"Everyone is a grasshopper at one point or another…" she responds, trailing off. I look up at her and she's got a faraway look in her green eyes like she's not quite all here.

"Oh, shit," I spit out as I realize she's in the middle of one of her premonitions. I'd only ever seen her have the one in the coffee shop, but during that one she'd lost all control of her body, eyes glazing over, coffee cups dropping. There was no reason it wouldn't be exactly the same right now, as we were flying. And if it was going to be the same, then we were going to fall to our gruesome and bloody deaths about 200 feet on the pavement below us. That wasn't how I wanted to go at all.

We were beginning to lose altitude and I was doing everything in my power not to freak out. "Seer!" I called up to her. She gave no response, only rapidly making us descend a few more feet. "Seriously, Seer! Snap out of it or we're both gonna die and you'll never get to use any toys from Batman! C'mon, you can't die before you throw a Batarang! SEER SNAP OUT OF IT!" Okay, I'll admit toward the end I kind of failed at not freaking out, but we were falling pretty fast. In a moment of pure desperation, I brought my foot up to snatch the grappling hook from my sock. I aimed as best I could at the top of any building within range. It was a lot harder to aim at a moving target in case you were wondering. I shot the hook as Carolina had just completely faded out of the real world and lost control of the focus she relied on to keep us airborne. We sailed through the air only for a moment as a harsh jerk nearly ripped my shoulder from its socket. I bit down on my lip feeling the skin break as I did so. It was the only way to keep from screaming as my arm was twisted around in unnatural ways.

But my awkward arm position was the least of my worries as Carolina began to slip out of the precarious grip I'd tried to hold on her. I lashed out, twirling my free arm around hers, hoping that I'd get me a better grip on her. The pull on one arm from the grappling hook and on the other from Carolina wasn't really doing much to keeping my newly re-healed arm unbroken and I couldn't help it as a pained yelp escaped me, much like a dog being kicked. This situation really wasn't getting any better for me at all. Especially considering now that the building I'd used as a tether for my grappling hook was now rushing up to meet us, ready to be the blunt wall that we'd collide painfully into. I couldn't think of anything else to do but brace myself. As the wall came closer I thrust my feet out, meeting the wall with the soles of my shoes rather than my face and nose. I kicked off from the wall much like a mountain climber would do, seeing how much energy I lost each time the action was repeated. After a minute or two of the odd slowing down method, Carolina and I were safe. Well, as safe as two people can be hanging from the side of a wall only by a grappling hook with a questionable hold. But I tried not to dwell on the negatives. It was easier to think about the good things when you were in an increasingly precarious situation like I always seemed to be.

It took me a while, but I finally noticed the thick crowd of people that had gathered beneath me and Carolina. They were shouting up as us, pointing and taking pictures with their cell phones. It was a few more moments when I realized, with an odd sort of question forming in my head, that all of these people were in the same outfit. I felt extremely dumb when it dawned on me they were all in uniform, for a school. And as if I couldn't get dumb enough, it took me longest of all to recognize that these were kids from _my_ school. Some idle part of my brain wondering if I'd used up all my coolness and skills earlier when I'd be jumping from car to car and this internal humiliation was my punishment. I brushed the thought away as I started once again to feel the pain and cramps in both my arms as I was being pulled sideways.

"Hey, Seer," I said, shaking Carolina with my arm. She uttered a weak groan and shook her head like it was full of smoke she was trying to clear. "Seeeeer!" I call out whinily, shaking my arm harder. She's jostled rather violently, which finally forces her from her trance that nearly cost us our lives.

"Why are you yelling at me, Owlet?" she asks, groggily looking around at her surroundings. "Woah, how in the world did we end up like this?"

"Well," I start off with a groan. The strain is very quickly beginning to get old. "We had been merrily flying through the air when you got a premonition and MADE US NEARLY FALL TO OUR BLOODY AND VERY PUBLIC DEATHS!" I explode into an angry explanation of the whole problem. Beneath the ski mask I can barely see Carolina flush red, but I know she is. "SO DO YOU MIND GIVING ME A HAND HERE OR ARE WE GOING TO PLAY 'LET'S SEE HOW LONG IT TAKES TO BREAK OWLET IN HALF'?"

"Oh, right," she says sheepishly. In an instant I feel the drag of her weight leave my arm until I'm only holding myself up on the grappling hook. People below us make noises of awe as they see her fly.

"Wait a minute," one kid cries. I look down to see him pointing right back up at me. "That's Owlet!"

"But she's not in costume!" another kid protests. "And if she's Owlet then who's the flying chick?"

"She's still wearing the cowl!"

"This is far more public than I'd intended for this outing to be," I sigh. Before Seer can levitate me safely to the ground, I let go of the handle on the grappling hook. Gasps cut through the air as I seemingly fall to my imminent death, but a well-placed green and blue awning over an entrance helps to break my fall. I bounce off it and lithely land on my feet.

In seconds I'm swarmed by people reaching for me, especially my cowl. I give a nasty smile as those who'd attempted to wrench off my mask receive a nasty shock for not having the same bio-metric system as me. Oh well, win some lose some, eh kids? After the shocks are administered the group backs away from me considerably. I give a smirk to them all, meeting their shocked looks with a smug one of my own.

I pretend to read the insignia on a kid's sweater-vest. "'Gotham Academy'? So you all must be the cream of the crop of Gotham City, eh? Future engineers and inventors, running businesses that you'll all be handed down from your dear parents and/or other relatives." My voice is sickeningly sweet as I lecture them. "You all must be so proud to be diluted into thinking you're something special because you go to a private school, because you're all the richest teens in Gotham. Why shouldn't you be special? You're from long lines of cheats and liars and in some case, murderers." The crowd draws back even more, now seeing that I'm not the entertaining zoo-like animal they were expecting Owlet to be. They thought they'd just all gawk at me and have a merry time. Well, weren't they dead wrong?

I had waited to say these things since pretty much my first day at GA. I hated looking around to see over-privileged snobs prancing about the place like they were the coolest kid in the world just because their parents owned a share of the oil market or a stock in a department store chain. Yes, I'll admit that not all of the kids who go to GA are bad. Barbara for example, and to an extent Dick (though the opposite case can be easily made for both of them, especially by me). I obviously couldn't tell my peers what I thought of them as Mona. That's pretty much rule Number 1 in high school: Keep your mouth shut unless you're planning on being the newest Pariah. But as Owlet, I could say whatever the hell I wanted to and the delicate system of high school hierarchy couldn't do a thing about my freedom of speech. Let's just say I was liking this fact a little too much for my own good.

Nobody responded immediately until I looked up to Seer, telling her with my body language that I was ready to go. But as Seer was levitating me up (a sensation I doubted I'd ever get used to) a boy near the back finally spoke up.

"Not all of us are bad people just because of our parents," he argued softly, quietly though everyone could hear him.

"Oh trust me, I know," I said with a nasty grin back at them all. "It's just sad that the ones everyone talks about are."

"How would you know?" someone counters angrily. Apparently it took them a while to get their nerve up after I'd chewed them all out.

"Because," I scoffed, Seer pulling me higher into the air as if she sensed I was going to say something stupid. "I go here too." In hindsight it was a very dumb move. You don't tell people where you go to school! It's like inviting them to find out your secret identity, something I was very happy with keeping under wraps. I spared a look down at the now shrinking group of people. They were chattering excitedly, most likely discussing who Owlet could possibly be.

_There's at least 2,000 girls that go to GA,_ I thought to myself. _No way they'll ever figure out it's me._

The thought did little to comfort me as Seer flew us towards the edge of town, to where the ridiculously rich people lived in their giant mansions. But we weren't really worried about any other mansion than the one owned by our friend Bruce Wayne (well my friend at least). Carolina hadn't been tentative when I'd approached her with the idea of getting her a utility belt and a better mask; in fact she'd jumped at the opportunity, well that is until I'd told her that we'd have to break into the Batcave to get it all. At first she was extremely hesitant. Seer was already on bad terms with Robin (a story I still hadn't heard all the way through) and she didn't think it was wise to get on Batman's bad side. My first argument didn't really compel her all that much (something about the fact that it didn't matter who you were, you were always on Batman's bad side) but after enough whining and at least 7 cups of her throat healing tea, I convinced her to come with me.

It had also been me who'd thought up the idea of using the travelling time between Selina's apartment and Bruce's house to practice working with each other on basic formations and possible battle plans. When I'd first suggested said battle plans Carolina looked at me like I was some kind of nerd playing World of War Craft or something, but after some thorough explaining and a few demonstrations (using some beheaded Barbie dolls I'd found in Selina's room that I'd have to ask her about later) I showed Carolina that my plans weren't as stupid and dorky as they seemed. I had spent most of the time I couldn't sleep at night thinking up these strategies (especially the night before), though they're not extremely detailed and in-depth. I will tell you that they'll definitely be helpful for the future. My mind, now wired to think like a vigilante 24/7, had started coming up with these get-away plans from practically the moment we'd first gone out as a team to now. I probably should've showed them to her earlier, but I'm an easily distracted person and it didn't seem all that important at the time. Now, though I knew it was 100% pertinent for us to know each other's strengths and weaknesses so we'd be able to fight together efficiently.

The plans were designed to do that. I had taken into account what I was very good at (hand to hand combat, mostly offensive, flying with the synthetic wings, sneaking, among other things) and what I wasn't very good at (defensive hand to hand combat, thinking on my feet, general common sense of when to mock a villain and when not to, etc) and what Carolina excelled at (getting visions, putting freaky ideas into people's heads, for the most part telekinesis etc etc) as well as what she was bad at (keeping focused on her telekinesis while she was getting a vision, controlling her body when she was getting a vision, paying attention all the time while using her telekinesis, and the list could go on for a little bit). With these ideas in mind I could put together a foolproof tactic to use our strengths and cover for our weaknesses, as well as training sessions designed to specifically help us get better with what we weren't so good at.

Of course in order for all this to happen I needed to get a full night's sleep at least once. Though I'd slept a while from early this morning to late this morning, I was still practically running on empty. I didn't know how Bruce could stand being barely awake, barely alive all day. However I knew once I was well slept and fed, I could put together some actual designs and maybe get somewhere with this partnership.

"Hey, Owlet," Seer says. Instead of holding me by the arms again she's opted to levitate me beside her as if I'm flying too. It annoys me that I can't control where I'm flying and that I have to rely on her steering and decisions, but I supposed it was a good way to learn to trust Carolina.

"Yep?" I asked, my deep thoughts and annoyance at my helplessness were completely void from my voice. Or at least I tried to make it that way. It sounded pretty convincing to me.

"Can you think a little quieter?" Her question catches me off guard. I turn to look at her with confusion settling upon my face.

"Do what?" I ask, sounding dumber than I intended. Her request has caught me so off guard I can't even control the tone of my voice anymore.

"This might sound weird, and I don't really expect you to believe me, but I can kinda feel what you're thinking… if that makes sense. It's like I know what you're feeling, like it's coming off you in waves and the feelings are really strong. They're, like, shoving me, if that makes any sense whatsoever." Carolina sounds embarrassed as she explains her reasoning.

At her explanation I give a choking gasp, my eyes wide and unbelieving under the cowl. "Are you kidding me?" I demand, trying to turn my body to face hers.

"Uh, no…" she says quietly, not sure what to make of my reaction.

"Do you know what this means?"

"Should I?"

"Yes!"

"Then why don't you tell me?"

"Carolina, this means you're empath!"

"… A what?"

I groan and slap my palm to my forehead. "An empath. It means you can sense other people's feelings. What the hell did you do in Greece to get all these powers? Honestly!" I exclaim the last part rather unbelievably as if the fact she can do all of these things seems a bit far-fetched to me. But if 3 of the Justice League's original 7 members can be aliens and my broken bones can be healed with a few backwards words spoken by a teenage girl, then why shouldn't I be able to believe this?

"I'll tell you later," she says quickly, nodding to the ground with a jerk of her head. I look down to see Wayne Manor. "We're here. Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, breaking into the Batcave? I know I haven't been in Gotham in a while, but that sounds pretty impossible."

"Anything is possible with enough nerve," I tell her with a wide grin. In my mind I picture myself looking like the Chesire Cat with his gigantic smile and I wonder if the comparison holds true.

Seer sighs and takes us down, descending quickly and smoothly with a neat landing. I can't help but to be jealous once more of the powers she's acquired. Her head swivels toward me as if she can tell I'm not 100% content so I try my best to cover the envy with another emotion, one I would think to be more smothering than jealousy: excitement. My cover up seems to work magically because Carolina looks away as if she was awkwardly staring at someone that just happened to look up and see her staring. I try to hide my smug smile as I begin making my way to the side of manor. She follows me without a word and it's a while before we actually get anywhere because of how large the property is. Sooner or later, though, we end up behind the house, closer to the wild woods by Bruce's house than to the actual house. Carolina follows me to something that looks like the tip of a mountain peeking up from the ground. I smile once I catch a glimpse at those jagged rocks, headed straight for them with the excitement of a 7 year old at Christmas.

"You are one of about 5 human beings in the entire world that has ever seen this entrance. If you prove to be untrustworthy, I might have to kill you," I tell Carolina with a straight face. She forces a laugh but it's pretty nervous. I lean over the rocks intently as if I'm studying them, which I am, though it must look quite odd to Carolina standing to the side and watching me.

"Right…" she says uncertainly.

I turn to look at her, my face wiped of all emotion, and I'm sure with the owl cowl I look pretty unnerving. "I'm dead serious here."

"OK, I get it, nobody finds out about this place or I'm going to be an ex-person," she sighs. Her patience is running low. It doesn't take an empath to tell.

Seconds later I had gotten the passageway open with the correct stomp on a secret panel and a strong wretch of a newly uncovered handle. Without hesitation I jumped down into the dark hole with Carolina soon following me, albeit a bit more graceful with the help of her powers. The door to the passageway closed behind us, sealing us in darkness. My cowl immediately compensated for the light difference but I could hear Carolina fumbling around in the dark behind me. Out of my utility belt I grabbed a glow stick, breaking the inner structure so that the chemicals inside could react. I handed it over to Carolina wordlessly and we began to make our way to the heart of the cave.

I suppose it would've been about 10 minutes when we finally broke off into the main cavern. I heard Carolina's breath catch in her chest as her eyes adjusted to see the wide cave with its endless pits and towering ceilings. She passed me as she walked farther inside, gawking up at the wickedly sharp stalactites that looked ready to fall and pierce you in a second. Her reaction was especially entertaining to me because we hadn't even gotten to the "Batty" part of the Batcave where the Bat-computer and the costumes were displayed.

"So you've never seen the interior of a cavern?" I muse with a smile in my tone.

"No…" she says breathlessly, drinking in the sight of the cave. "Do… do I hear running water?"

"Yea," I reply casually, secretly very pleased with the shocked look on her face. "He's got an underground river here. Lots of bats too, but that's a given."

"This place is amazing," she whispers quietly as if she's scared she's going to disturb something in the cave. I suppose she's right in trying to keep quiet. Once when I was training down here I'd shot a grappling hook up to one of the stalactites above me and disturbed a whole little colony of bats. Let's just say the real bats and the Batman weren't too happy with my screw up.

"C'mon." I lead her down to a sort of rock formed balcony that looks over the main area of the cave. I jump down off it, as I've seen Dick do many times, and flip once in the air, landing gracefully in a smooth somersaulting roll that ends me up on my feet. Carolina drifts down lazily, her eyes still wide like a little kid at the mall.

"And this, my friend, is the legendary Batcave." I swing my arm out behind me as if I'm a game show host showing the contestants their prizes. Carolina's eyes float over the main control panel with its millions of keys and flashing lights, at the costume display where my first owl suit resides, at the medical bay area that I've been treated at more times than I can count. Her mouth drops open at the extensiveness of the cave as if she didn't believe this could possibly be the work of one man.

"This is so amazing," she gasps, lightly running her fingers along a glass case that holds the mask of an old Joker henchman.

"Amazing? Yea, I suppose you could call it that," I say while shrugging. I've already made my way over to the uniform closet, past the arrangement of various vehicles belonging to the Caped Crusader. "It should really have a sign hanging: 'Welcome to the Batcave, get your shit and get out'."

"Such choice words, Miss Ryder," a soft voice says, floating over the silence that Carolina and I had come to rely upon to assume that we were alone. Yet there he is, walking down the secret staircase that leads up to Wayne Manor with an empty silver tray in his hands: Alfred.

"Alfred!" I yelp, looking around guiltily. "I would've thought that you'd be cleaning or buttling or something." I laugh nervously as Bruce Wayne's butler closes the distance between me and him. Even though I'm the ninja trained assassin, being face to face with Alfred Pennyworth is something that'll make even the bravest men shrink back in fear.

"Yes, well the sensors went off on the secret passageway," he drawls. "I had assumed it was just another wild animal that had accidentally found its way in here. That happened last year with a raccoon, you know. Nasty ordeal quite frankly." Alfred stares at me expectantly as if he knows I'm going to just spew out my entire explanation of why I'm here in the first place.

"Nope," I say shakily. "Just me. And well, Seer."

"Seer, is it?" Alfred asks, looking past me to stare at Carolina. She looks out of place among the high end gadgets with her black ski mask. "Pleasure. Can I interest you ladies in some tea?"

"Actually, we were just coming to pick up a few things. A few extra doo-dads for me, a utility belt for Seer, and then we were going to be off." I edge away from Alfred and closer to the cabinet where Bruce keeps the extras of, well, everything.

"Really, now?" Alfred asks, though he doesn't seem at all surprised. "And did you happen to ask Batman what his thoughts on this were?"

"Of course not, Alfred. I wasn't about to bother poor Batman with more useless things that are important in my life. I learned my lesson pretty well the last time," I say coldly with a heavy dose of sarcasm. I don't even feel bad as I take two utility belts and a couple of domino masks out of the surplus. Surely Bruce won't miss them out of the seemingly hundreds that he has.

"Oh, Miss Ryder, you mustn't be bitter about that," Alfred says, smoothly setting the tray down at the console by the Bat-computer. "Keep in mind Batman is a very busy person, and he too gets stressed like everyone else."

"He didn't have to take it out on me!" I cry out suddenly. I'm not sure what provoked it, the holding in on my anger or Alfred's kind tones. I shut up immediately after that, clamping a metaphorical hand over my mouth.

Alfred's voice gets even softer as he comes up behind me to put a supportive hand on my shoulder. "Really, Miss Mona, you mustn't take it personally. Batman can be harsh at times, it's true, but you're a part of his family now, and Batman has learned that keeping family close is the most important thing one could do."

I give a long tired sigh. "I'm really not up for a discussion on it now, Alfred. But I appreciate what you're trying to do, really." I look at him as sincerely as I can through the cowl. "But I've got to do this. Gotham needs me, not just Batman. Batman can't get inside and shut it down. Batman can't take down Fincher. Only I can do that, and I need help with it. That's where Seer comes in." I gesture to her, throwing one of the utility belts as I do it.

"If you say so, Miss Mona," Alfred sighs, backing away from me and clasping his gloved hands in front of him.

"I do." I motion to Carolina that it's time to go and after she finishes clicking her utility belt into place, she's levitating me and her up to the balcony-like cut of rock in the cave. As soon as her feet touch the ground she's rushing back to the tunnel. But I stay behind for a little bit, looking down at Alfred.

"Hey, Alfie?" I ask so that I have his attention. He looks up at me wordlessly, making a small face of distaste at the informal nickname. "I used to wonder about the meaning of life, why I was here in the first place, you know? Especially after the death of my parents." My voice grows softer but I know the loyal butler can still hear me. "But I've figured out why I'm here, my purpose in life."

"Yes?" he asks. "And pray tell what that purpose is."

"I'm here to bring justice to those who lost it and those who never had it." I offer Alfred one last smile before running after Carolina, down into the dark passageway and away from the Batcave.

* * *

><p>"That's not how you do a round kick!" I shout as a flurry of punches fly at me from Carolina. She gives a growling sigh, furiously trying to get a punch or a kick in at me. I gave her a smile in return, my teeth bared in a humorless grin as I batted away her advances with my bo staff. "You've got to get your leg up higher. You're supposed to be trying to kick me in the head, not the shoulder."<p>

"You keep moving!" she calls out furiously. There's swear pouring off her, getting into her eyes and plastering her hair to her face.

"What, you expect me to stand still while you try to knock my lights out?" I ask coyly. "Hate to break it to you, sister, but in the real world the bad guys aren't going to wait for you to be ready." My tone is dripping in sarcasm and I can practically feel the word "smartass" being labeled on my forehead.

Carolina gives another yell, this one more lost and frustrated than angry. She was wearing herself out, exactly what you want your opponent to do in a real fight. As Bruce drilled into my head, "work smarter, not harder, train that way as well" (or something along those lines). That was one of the first ideas I really understood in my trainings as a vigilante. It wasn't about the gadgets or costumes. It was about winning the battles you'd need to wage at night against crime. It was about fighting for justice, both metaphorically and literally. Bruce practically wrote the book on this, so being able to learn from him is quite honestly a near miracle-like occurrence for me. there was also Selina, who too knew what she was doing, she just specialized more with stealth instead of combat. I was the right person to be teaching Carolina, because I not only had all of Bruce and Selina's training under my belt, but also my own experiences as a teenage vigilante/villain on the streets of Gotham. Combined, the trainings all together were quite lethal when used correctly.

But just because I was the right person to be teaching Carolina, it didn't mean she had to like my methods. I finally stopped my assault on her, collapsing the bo staff and sticking into the back of my belt. Carolina was red in the face, sweaty and looked dog tired. I was instantly reminded of myself on my first few days of Bat-training and pitied her a little bit. But it was true, the crooks in Gotham were especially ruthless and wouldn't go easy on Seer just because she was a girl.

"Why don't we take a break from combat and move onto the gadgets. I'm sure you'll like these, they're pretty fun." I give a grin to my friend. Throughout the whole fight I had barely broken a sweat and Carolina was giving me a pretty obvious glare because of this. She pushed her hair out of her face as her hands floated to her utility belt that she had strapped around her hips.

"Can't we do something else?" she asks, her breathing labored.

"You don't want to use the gadgets?" I ask in shock, a hand floating to my forehead as if I'm a Southern bell about to faint. "Oh my! Well then I guess we'll work on your reflexes, how about that?"

"Yea, okay, whatever," she sighs, walking away from our makeshift practice mat to the wall that we've leaned our water bottles and backpacks against. She takes a long drink as if she's never had water in her entire life before, then finally returns back to stand in front of me. "So what are we going to do?"

"Glad you asked!" I say with a smile that's a little to cheerful. This should've been Carolina's first clue that things weren't going to go completely peachy for her. "You were in gymnastics as a kid, weren't you?"

"Yes," she responds with her eyebrows furrowed together. "And I had a personal trainer for the last movie that I did."

"So you'd say you're pretty flexible for a 16 year old girl?"

"Yes…?" she says as if not sure the answer is correct.

"Great, you have no idea how much that's going to help you in this next exercise." My smile turns from giddy to evil as I pull a few Batarangs from my utility belt. "Your goal is to not get hit and to do so by using the most stylish means necessary."

"And your goal is?" she asks.

"I think you already know the answer to that question." I give a smirk and Carolina only gets a few moments to prepare herself before I've flung the first Batarang at her. She dodges it by simply moving out of the way, a quick sidestep to her left. I frown as the Batarang buries itself in the wall behind her. "What happened to 'the most stylish means necessary'?"

"You threw a sharp projectile at me!" she squawks back indignantly.

"And I'm going to keep throwing them at you until you appease me. Now are you going to show me some of your gymnastic prowess or am I going to have to get out the bomb pellets?" I watch Carolina's eyes get as big as dinner plates. "Good. Now show me some style!" I throw another Batarang and watch as it curves around to aim itself at Carolina's midsection. As promised she completes a very authentic looking back-bend and handspring, landing lightly on her feet as the Batarang hits the wall once more. "See, that is so much better," I call out, tossing two or three Batarangs at once and watching how Carolina escapes them.

"You know," she says as we're about half an hour into the exercise. Carolina is now doing jumps off the walls and flips in mid-air like she's some sort of acrobat. A Batarang narrowly misses her cheek as she turns to look at me mid-jump. "You're kind of sadistic to have come up with this."

I bark a laugh out that barely sounds humorous. "It's hilarious that you think I came up with this exercise. I'm just putting the gymnastic spin on it. Batman did this to me about a week into my training. I have a scar from the first time he threw one and didn't warn me. It cut the side of my arm and he wouldn't let me bandage it up until I'd done it for an hour and a half." I pulled up my t-shirt sleeve to show a thin line that ran along my upper arm on the left.

"Geez," Carolina mutters now that she's on her feet. "Batman sounds like a total hard ass."

"Oh, he is," I confirm with a tight nod. "But you get used to it after a while."

"I wouldn't," Carolina retorts defiantly. "I'm not about to put up with someone that doesn't seem to care if I'm hurt or not."

"I'm sure he cared," I say in Bruce's defense. "He just wanted me to be prepared for what I'd have to face in the real world, you know?"

"People don't have Batarangs in the real world." Carolina yanks one of the metal projectiles that I've buried in the wall behind her and examines it.

"Only the good guy," I tell her with a smile. "Why we clean up then go out for lunch? I'm starving and I really want to get out of these clothes." I stick my tongue out as I pull my shirt collar away from me between my forefinger and thumb.

"Yea, that sounds nice. How about we go to our apartments and meet somewhere?" she asks, stretching out her muscles so she doesn't get cramps.

"Sounds fine to me. Anywhere you had in mind?" I follow her to the wall, slipping my cowl into my backpack and going to the other wall to retrieve my many Batarangs.

"How about that Italian place over on Elm Street?" she asks. "I've heard it's pretty good."

"That'll work. See you there around 2-ish?" I look over to her for confirmation and she nods, getting more water. "Awesome. Nice work today. Maybe after lunch we can start using some of the things in the utility belt?" I give Carolina a pointed look as I yank a Batarang that I'd accidentally lodged into the concrete of the support pillar. She gives me an exasperated look but I only counter it with my own pointed one. In our battles of the glares I win ultimately as she gives up and rolls her eyes.

"Fine, we can play with Batman's little toys. Don't expect me to like them," she huffs stubbornly.

"I don't, but it's a skill you need to have on your side just in case, you know? What if there's some sort of power disrupter and you can't just use your telekinesis to get out of a jam? Then what?"

"I see your point," she sighs, standing up and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "But after we mess with the gadgets, you're going against me and my powers, deal?"

I give her a wide smile, looking forward to the showdown. "Okay, deal. How about we do it tonight, Owlet against Seer with Gotham as our battlefield?"

"Sounds fair enough to me," she responds with a grin to match my own. "Big lunch, some more training, rest up after dinner and then a showdown between the two hottest teenage vigilantes on the streets of Gotham."

"We'll meet at Wayne Enterprises at midnight and see which one of us is the better when you have your powers and I have my ninja-like reflexes." My response sounds like a joke on the surface, but underneath both Carolina and I know the implications. I've made a fool of Carolina today and she wants to pay me back for that. This fight will show us who's really the stronger of the two, and I for one couldn't wait to find out.


	24. Blood Spilt Between Friends

AN: First off, I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T UPDATE FOR SO LONG! I didn't mean to, I just kept putting it off and off and off… I can't believe it's been this long! I'm so sorry guys :'( But anyways… Anyone going to see the Avengers? Yes, I know they're Marvel, but I love Iron Man to pieces. I've seen it three times so far and I highly recommend it.

I think I subconsciously pulled inspiration for this chapter from a Batman comic called "The Killing Joke." I don't know if anyone is familiar with it, but it's the infamous comic where Joker puts Babs in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. The main idea of the comic is Joker's argument about insanity, that it only takes one bad day to drive someone off the edge. Maybe that translated better or worse into the chapter. Won't know until you guys read it. But anyways, on with the chapter. Lord knows I've kept you waiting long enough.

Blood Spilt Between Friends

The walk back to Selina's apartment building is quiet, and I can appreciate it for that. It gave me time to think without having to go to school and learn or be pestered by Dick or frustrated by Carolina. When I was alone it was really the only time for me to look back at all that's happened and wonder why. Why did Fincher have to go so far? Why was it my parents that had to die? Why was it me that had to avenge them? Why didn't anyone understand the gravity of my situation? Why didn't Bruce comprehend what Fincher's return meant for me? All of the questions swirling around in my head confused me even more, mostly because there wasn't a good answer for any of them.

I walked into the redone apartment lobby, slinging the gym bag that contained my all black clothes and my Owlet cowl onto my other shoulder. The lobby was empty besides the manager who always seemed to be sitting at his desk, either reading a grungy newspaper that was at least a year out of date, or toying around with his empty pack of cigarettes, asking himself under his breath why he decided to quit smoking in the first place. He usually ignored me as I walked by him on my way to the elevator, but today as I stepped inside his bloodshot eyes from never sleeping rose up from his newspaper to meet mine.

"You're the kid in the apartment on the ninth floor, with the Kyle woman?" the man says in a gravelly voice, his mouth barely moving as the sentence seems to tumble out gracelessly.

"That's me, yeah," I reply, eying him suspiciously as I switch the gym bag onto my other shoulder.

"Haven't seen her in a few days," he goes on, looking at me with his yellowed, vein-y eyes. "The rent's been due for a week and she hasn't payed it up."

"Oh," I say with a frown. "Well that could be a problem. How much is it? I think I can pick it up."

"700," he replies. If he wasn't so monotone I'd almost guess he was smug, making it seem like he doubted I could pay. He must have forgotten who he was talking to.

I reached into a pocket on the outside of the exercise bag and pulled out a large wad of bills. Peeling off the right amount, I slide it over to him on the desk, a smug look of my own creeping onto my face. "That do it for this month?"

He takes the money, seemingly shell shocked that a teenager just showed him up while being smart-assy at the same time. The man nods to me and I don't give him another look as I turn and walk to the elevator with a certain confidence that I can't help but feel. I kicked ass all day, it doesn't matter that it was my friends', and I just made a man swallow his pride after he'd assumed I was some little poor kid mooching off Selina. Though my life had been pretty sucky lately, today was starting to shape up, I thought as I waited for the elevator to make its way up to the 9th floor.

Once I got to the apartment door I knew something was up, however. The door wasn't quite ajar, so to say, but it wasn't completely closed all the way, showing someone had either left in a hurry while trying not to make a noise, or had purposefully made their exit just barely noticeable unless it was seen by a trained eye. I had the sickest feeling in my stomach that it was the latter choice. Bracing myself for whatever could come next, I kicked the door open, hoping to catch anyone who might be in the apartment by surprise.

But all the rooms were completely void of life, besides the brown cat that had decided to make it's bed in a nest of blankets I'd thrown on the floor in my room. Just because the rooms were empty of people didn't mean they were empty of clues left behind. The apartment that I'd done my best to tidy up was now even more in shambles, with another messily scrawled note, though this one was on an actual piece of paper written in pen instead of on the wall using spray paint. The note was short and got to it's point immediately, a point that actually succeeded in sending chills down my back:

_It's almost too easy to get to you, Ryder, _it read, the handwriting barely legible. It was obvious this had been written in a hurry. _In fact, it's always been easy to target you. _Fincher doesn't even have to sign the note for me to know it's him. His obvious allusion to the day he killed my parents is not lost on me. My hand shakes as I reread the letter, over and over, those two sentences burning into my eyes. It shouldn't bother me as much as it does. Telling myself this won't help, because despite everything, despite the fact that I'm a vigilante at night, that Batman is on my side, that I have a friend who has telekinesis, despite all of that, he still scares me. Fincher scared me the first time I confronted him face to face after my becoming Owlet. He scared me the first time he'd broken into the apartment. And he scared me now, with this two sentenced threat that would've been scoffed at by anyone else.

But they didn't know Fincher. They didn't know how he thought, the processes of right and wrong that went on inside his head. They couldn't understand what it was like to see him standing above you, your life hanging in the balance with him ready to cut the thin string that was keeping you still tethered to this world. They would never understand the feeling of having the only two people they ever loved taken away just because Jerome Fincher didn't agree with their line of work. It was then that I finally realized something that I was sure I'd thought of a long time ago, or at least something that had always been lurking around in the dark, forbidden corners of my brain: Fincher was a sociopath. There was no other way to simplify it. And when dealing with sociopaths, there is never a logical answer.

I crushed the note into a tight ball and stormed to my room, hurling it out the open window and down to the ground of the alley 9 floors below. I was shaking as I did this, both frightened at the fact Fincher could get to me so easily and at the idea of what this meant for me as Owlet, what I'd soon have to do. Patrolling the streets for regular criminals was going to have to go on a hold. At least only until I found Jerome Fincher. Found him and killed him.

* * *

><p>I ignored the damage done to the apartment this time, choosing instead to take a quick shower to wash off the grime and the sweat from the day and then went to the grocery store with the remainder of my pay check from the Cleaner. I bought enough groceries to sustain one person for a week and enough cat food for 20 cats, should the strays that used to take refuge in the apartment ever decided to return. My little shopping escapade only lasted about an hour or so, and when I finally returned to the apartment I was 100 dollars poorer. But money didn't matter to me. I went throughout the house, putting cat food in bowls and setting them in the kitchen, on window sills and on the fire escape outside my window, hoping that the strays would return to keep me company. I made myself a veggie burger for dinner and ate it alone in the silent kitchen with only the sound of the brown cat's munching on his food to fill the air. Soon after that I went to bed, setting an alarm for me to wake up at 11:30 pm. Though today had been exhausting, mentally and physically, I had promised Carolina the fight, and it was her only shot at personal redemption. What kind of a person would I have been if I'd denied her the one chance to get back onto my level, to prove that she wasn't the weak fool I portrayed her to be?<p>

I would find out later that I would've been the wiser person to do so, but too often we cannot see what our actions will unfold.

* * *

><p>To me 11:30 came far too early, but I'm not one to break promises, especially to my friends, the few that I really have. I rolled out of bed with a sigh, running a hand through my hair in hopes of getting it out of my eyes. It only flopped back down onto my forehead, obscuring my vision as I stumbled through the darkness of my room, pulling on the various pieces of my Owlet costume, starting first with the thin under-armor type clothes I wore under the suit. The actual owl suit followed soon after, and I finished off the look with the cowl, slipping it on over my head as if it was a revered thing. I suppose in some aspects it was, to some more than others, most definitely. But I didn't have time to dwell on the psychological implications of my being Owlet. The night was young and I had plans, a dangerous combination for a person like me.<p>

Yet I still took to the skies, leaping from my 9th story balcony, falling through the air for a few moments before catching myself with my wings, immediately ascending into the air. I flapped the wings a bit to gain some more altitude. It was never really a good idea to fly low in Gotham. There had been far too many times where people had tried to shoot at me or gawk at me when I was attempting to be stealthy. Both were obviously negative, and the only way to avoid it was to fly higher above the city, usually around the 20th floor of the tall office buildings that were scattered around the town. Helicopters usually flew a bit higher than that most of the time, and from the ground it was hard enough to see me that I was as good as invisible. Adding to that, the new black owl suit added even more protection against prying eyes. As long as I flew high I was safe from people below me that I vowed to myself to protect.

It was an odd idea to me, being safe from those you kept safe. But I had seen it applied in so many contexts that after rolling the idea around a bit in my head, it wasn't all that hard to understand at all. People could be savage, especially when they felt their freedom was threatened. Well, their freedom or their pride. And when you start throwing vigilantes into the mix who begin taking away the city's pride by enforcing laws in illegal ways, things start to get ugly. It wasn't just the corrupt police or politicians that were after Batman and Robin and Owlet, it was the normal people, the people who just wanted to have a sense of trust and pride in their city. But with the people like me flying around it, that sense was shattered. And society, surprisingly enough, doesn't respond well to shattered ideas. Just a little piece of advice for you to keep as you go along in life. It's an important one, to be truthful, and one that is far too often looked over.

My internal clock told me that it was around 11:45 when I landed atop the Wayne Enterprises building. Sleep had now long left me, and I was wide awake from the chilly night air that had found its way to my bones. Yet though I was cold I felt alive, as if an intense version of adrenalin was coursing its way through my veins, a special brand made just for tonight. I couldn't seem to keep still as I waited for Seer. You'd think that a girl who could fly with her "magical" powers would get to the meeting point before the human girl. But betting on anyone in this town, magical or normal, was never really a good idea. In a place like Gotham you can never predict what's going to happen next.

It was around 11:54 when I heard the first sound of something suspicious. I looked around the roof carefully, scanning it for Carolina, though I could find no sign that she was around. The noise made me on my guard, however, and I couldn't relax after I'd heard it. A few moments after the first one, a second noise came, this one louder, and more obviously on purpose. The slightest little smirk crossed my face. Carolina was screwing with my mind, a point I'd told her never to underestimate in a fight when I'd been teaching her earlier. It seemed that she was actually paying attention to what I'd had to say. I was filled with pride before the first hit came, knocking me violently forward. I stumbled on the gravel that lined the roof, just barely catching myself as the second hit came, soon followed by the third, then the fourth. They were just little punches or kicks, either. They were strategically aimed, with power behind them. One to the neck, another to the back of the knee. As I fell to the ground she aimed yet another into the soft spot of my core, protected by the bullet proof vest sewn into the suit. Her kick was still easily felt, however, and I groaned in pain as the breath was knocked out of me.

"Not too bad, eh?" Carolina asks. I can hear the smugness in her voice, dripping off her words like they were acid. It appears that I'd underestimated how insulted she'd felt from the lesson earlier. Apparently her level of rage was higher than I could've ever expected. I looked up at her seeing that her normal blood red cape was missing. She was standing before me only in something that looked to be a tight black jumpsuit with a hardy looking pair of boots. On her face was a much more believable looking black mask, blocking out her irises like one of Robin's would. But as I give the mask a closer look, I can tell it's not of the normal variety. I squint at it under the cowl as I attempt to regain my breath.

"Oh," Seer says, noticing my staring. She smiles, gesturing to the mask. "You like it? 'Cuz it's not really there." I give a look of confusion that still registers to her though it's under my mask. "It's a trick I figured out I could do. See, I'm not wearing a mask, but I'm projecting the idea that I am wearing one into your mind. So everyone that I want to see me with a mask on, sees me with a mask. Otherwise, I look completely normal to them." Carolina smirks and its obvious that she's proud of herself. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Oh yeah, it's great," I say airily, taking deep breaths, trying to get back on my feet. "But what happens when you go up against someone with mind powers too? Won't they just deflect the images you're projecting and see your face, thus knowing your identity before you even start to fight?" The sheer superiority in my voice disgusts even me, but it was necessary if I wanted to get a hit in. As Carolina ponders the thought I take the time to sweep my leg out to knock hers down. Unprepared for the attack, Carolina falls to join me on the floor of the rooftop. But we're only next to one another for a few moments as I push myself up to my feet, leaping off the roof without a second's hesitation.

I can sense Seer in the air after me before I even see her. Yet there she was, flying up beside me, smiling a bit though the hit to her dignity is easily seen on her face. She yells something though I can't hear her over the wind in my ears. Had she been wearing the comms unit I'd set her up with we could've had a conversation up here. But it appeared that Carolina was going totally independent tonight, fighting on her own with whatever she could provide herself.

To be honest, I was glad she was. It was about time that she got some confidence and self-respect for herself as Seer. Sure, she was a fine fighter, and though she was a beginner with the whole telekinesis and future predicting thing, she was pretty good at it. But she lacked conviction, she lacked the internal idea that she was supposed to be doing this, the idea that she was meant to be doing this saving lives thing. All she'd needed was a good push to prove herself, and inadvertently I'd given her the push today while training her up.

_Damn, _I thought, dodging Carolina as she shot at me like a rocket, banking a little to the right. _I'm better at this whole teaching thing that I thought I was._

My moment of self-reassurance in my teaching abilities was short lived, however, as Seer flew at me, a round kick aimed at my head. My instincts took over as my arms tucked themselves close into my body, my head ducking down. Instantly I was dropping through the air like a stone, plunging to the ground below. I tried looking up to check on Seer's position, but it was as if she'd vanished into thin air. Worse yet, when I tried to open up my arms again to fly, my body wouldn't respond, as if it were being controlled by some outside force. A victorious laugh alerted me to Seer's appearance behind me as we fell. With the slightest little motion of her hand she slowed us both down until we were just suspended in the air, now in front of a large bill board in the middle of the city.

Down below us people pointed and stared in awe. I heard some of the calling out, wondering who we were. _That couldn't be Batgirl! _I almost heard them think. _Batgirl has a cape! Batgirl's costume is different!_ I wondered how long it would take before they'd piece two and two together to see that it was their same "friendly" neighborhood Owlet, just in a black costume instead of my usual grey one. The revelation didn't seem to come soon, though. Those people were just as clueless as they were for a good part of their entire lives as citizens of Gotham.

"Wave hi to all your friends!" Seer mocked, doing just what she had told me to do. There was an omnipotent and condescending smile on her face as if she thought of the people below us as lesser than her. With a start, I realized that she probably was beginning to. With all the power that she'd been given in the past month or so, it only made sense that a different mental image of herself and those around her would begin to form.

"You think of them as subordinate," I stated bluntly. She stops waving and looks at me, surprise etched onto her face as if she'd never thought of it that way before. The surprise soon washes away to be replaced instead by defensive anger.

"What are you talking about?" Seer demands. "I save them just like you do. We're both the heroes here."

"Then why," I ask, struggling to breathe now. "Are you crushing me, their 'hero', in front of them like an anaconda?" I barely choke out the last few words, but Seer gets the drift, instantly relinquishing her mental hold on. The good news was that I could breathe again. The bad news was that I toppled about 10 feet to the top of another building. Unable to catch myself I fell onto my side, the air once again expelled from my lungs. I gave a harsh cough, sitting up almost instantly, stumbling to the edge and jumping before Carolina could get to me again.

I knew her powers were advanced, but I also knew she was still getting used to having them. And getting used to having the powers meant that she'd need a lot more concentration if she hoped to use them as she wanted them used. And one thing that always seemed to keep people nice and unfocused, was a moving target. Doing my best to fly as crookedly and oddly as possible, I zigged and zagged over the awed crowd of Gotham Square. Some pointed up at me, taking pictures while others simply scowled, some even yelling a few derogatory words at my choice of career. I brushed their mixed reactions off, however. At the moment, the people of Gotham were not who I needed to focus on saving. The only person that needed saving here was me.

I didn't expect to get away from for long, but it was long enough for me to formulate a quick plan, though it was contingent on a single piece of information that I didn't yet possess. I would have to wait until the opportune moment to implement it, when I was sure that it would work. I banked sharply to the left, becoming practically perpendicular to the ground as I turned. I hated the fact that I was forced to expose my underside to Seer, who was now flying parallel to me, but it was the only way I could think to get her close enough to be in talking range.

She soon flew in closer, and now we were only feet away, flying through the air of Gotham like it was an art, as if this were some sort of dance that only we knew. Seer gave a devilish little grin, one that I wasn't accustomed to seeing on her, mask or no mask. "Getting nervous, Ryder?" I gritted my teeth as she used my real name. Sure, we were hundreds of feet above the city, both our comms units were turned off, as far as we knew, we were completely bug free and alone. But there's just some things you don't do when you're a vigilante, and that's fuck around with a fellow vigilante's secret identity.

"Does it matter, _Seer_?" I stressed her name to show just how much Carolina's quip had bothered me. From the sideways looks that I gave her while attempting to fly straight I could see the deep scowl forming instantly on her face. "Are you even wearing armor with that?" I ask suddenly, blurting the question as if its random.

Seer scoffs at this, some of her more aloof heir coming back to her. "Of course."

"Good, just checking," I say, mentally preparing myself for the risky maneuver that I was going to perform next.

"What, just because I'm new at the whole vigilante thing you think I'm some kind of idiot who-" The rest of her sentence is lost as I flap my wings hard, shooting up a few feet before dropping back down quickly. I use Carolina's back as a spring board, pushing myself away from her, completing a simple little flip in the air while grabbing a single Batarang from my utility belt. As I flip back around to face her I press a little button on the side of the Batarang and let it fly at her. As planned it sticks into the armor under her suit. For a few moments Carolina is too stunned to really react to this, not even when the Batarang begins to blink rapidly. I let myself fall down lower as the projectile finally explodes, throwing us both opposite directions with the sheer force of it.

I'm able to catch my balance in the air relatively quickly, though Carolina doesn't appear to be as lucky. She tumbles through the air for a bit, and I swear I can see blood gushing from her nose before she falls out of my sight. For a few scary moments I assume that I knocked her out and that she's falling to her death with no way to save herself, but the girl eventually rights herself with a forceful yell that might be from frustration or pain, or maybe even both. She forces her hands straight out in front of her, her fingers splayed wide apart. Immediately she stops in midair, and I as fly down I can see the blood freely flowing from her nose and down her face and neck. Carolina pays it no attention though, focusing her sight on me, something that is quite obvious even through the mask.

"ENOUGH!" she screeches. "I don't have to take this from you! You're just a human!" Seer fiercely swipes a hand through the air, making a clawing motion as she does so and instantly I'm swept to the side, swatted through the air like I'm a fly. I'm forced into the side of a building and though I can't feel anything break on impact, I'm sure I'll have a nasty bruise on the entirety of the right side of my body. I grit my teeth against the pain as Carolina throws me around like a rag doll. With a look at the crazed expression on her face and the desperation in her eyes, I can see that this little "fight" has gone farther than I'd ever intended it to go.

"Lina!" I croak out after being slammed into a bill board now. An Owlet sized imprint is made on the side of a smiling woman's face, who looks as if she should be employed by the Joker. "This has gone far enough!"

"'Far enough'?" she questions, flying me and herself up so that we're on the same plane, face to face in midair, suspended precariously over the late night traffic of downtown Gotham. "I don't think it's gone quite far enough yet, but that might just be my opinion."

"You're tired!" I yell. "You're tired and mentally wounded. You wanted to prove your point and you did. Look around you, Lina," I say, exhaustion beginning to creep into my voice after the hysteria that had just been present. "There's no prizes for winning this. There's no one around here to prove yourself to. It's just me and you. I already know you're strong. You're stronger and more powerful than a lot of people I know. I have faith in you. The only person here that doubts you _is_ you," I stress, looking her straight in the eyes as I speak. During my little speech I can see the projection of the domino mask begin to flicker in and out of existence. "I've realized the only person you're trying to show off to here is yourself, so why can't you?"

The look of rage that crosses my friend's face is enough to send fear ricocheting down my spine, but I keep a Batman-grade poker face as she seems to internally battle herself. Did I make the wrong decision confronting her on it, I wonder. Maybe all I really did was make her even more pissed off. Maybe my words were the poke that pushed her off the edge of the cliff she'd been on the entire day. I could feel my pulse speed up in nervous anticipation as she deliberated on what to do. It seemed like hours that we were up there, her thinking and me praying that she didn't lose her concentration and make us fall to our deaths stories below. In reality it was only a few minutes before she finally answered.

"You're right," she admitted softly. I can't help the shock that flashes on my face. I had always thought of myself as an overly proud person, and asking for help or saying that I was wrong were some of the hardest things to do. I had pegged Carolina as the same type of person, especially with her being in show business and all. But here she was, letting me know that I had a point, that she was wrong here, that it was her fault that this had been blown out of proportion.

"Can we call it a night?" I pleaded quietly, forcing her to look up at me. She met my eyes, the domino mask now completely gone. A sincere and soft smile covered her face and she nodded at me.

"I think that's a good idea," she said slowly. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

"One of the longest," I agree firmly. Seer begins to lower us down to a rooftop, setting me down softly. As soon as the invisible force is gone I can feel just how sore I'm going to be in the morning. I massaged my core for a little bit, hoping to get some feeling beside soreness and pain into before stretching myself out, getting ready for the flight back home. "I'm really sorry about how I treated you today, Lina," I tell her sincerely as I'm about to jump off a roof top for what seems like the umpteenth time tonight. She gives another small smile.

"It's okay," she answers benevolently. "I think I kind of understand." The tenderness in her face and voice is soon lost as she looks at me sternly. "But that doesn't mean I'll be okay if it happens again, understood?"

I chuckle a little at her sternness. She's almost like a drill sergeant, to be truthful. I give her a salute and a grin. "Yes, ma'am. I understand."

"Good," she says with a satisfactory nod. "And I'm sorry for tossing you around like a piece of garbage."

I laugh some at her half-hearted apology but the action hurts too much for me to continue it too terribly long. "It's fine, that's how I get treated on a normal basis anyway."

Lina gives a low whistle, readying herself as well to take the leap off the top of the building. "Must really suck getting treated like that all the time."

I turn to face her, one foot dangling off the edge of the ledge precariously, a lazily confident smile on my face. "You get used to it, really," I add at her dubious look. I step off the ledge, instantly letting my wings catch me as I fly back towards the apartment on the other side of the town. "It's a small price to pay for all the good that we're allowed to do."


	25. An Okay Guy

AN: Wow, haven't been on here in a while, a lot has changed. I'd apologize profusely for not updating but I'm afraid they'll seem like empty words to you guys. I hope you can forgive me, but I was like uninspired to the point where I didn't care if I finished Owlet or not. I had a little epiphany last night and this resulted from it. Hope you guys like it, please review, tell me what you don't like/like, and what you want to see in the future. I know how Owlet is going to end; I just need to figure out exactly how to get there. You guys wanna know something funny? I'm dating a guy named Dick XD Sorry, had to share that. Here's Chapter 25.

An Okay Guy

If there was one thing I really hated, besides Jerome Fincher and people getting away with horrific crimes and justice/revenge not being served (Wow, I really hate a lot of things) it was bullies. It didn't matter what kind of bullies: one from school who picked on the outcasts, ones from the real world who picked on smaller corporations, forcing people out of businesses and jobs, and the ones that went out on the streets at night just so they could pummel someone to feel better about themselves. The lack of confidence in all bullies made me pretty much disgusted. The idea that you'd have to beat down someone else, to mentally and physically break someone just to gain some reassurance in your abilities or in your life was just as pathetic as it was dangerous. If you watched enough news in Gotham you'd be able to see that even though this city is riddled with the regular types of crimes (muggings, murders, drug deals, prostitution, etc etc) the good people of Gotham who want to clean up their city are also targeting the ideas of bullying and how it's grown from the big kid who stole your lunch money to the kid at school who pushes another kid to commit suicide.

To me, any kind of bullying is sick and useless, yet most just let it pass on like it's not that big of a deal. "It's a dog eat dog world out there" they'll say, trying to convince you this is how the world is supposed to be, that this is the way life was intended to run. I hate to break it to them, but life is supposed to be about reciprocity, about dues being paid for crimes done, about balance in all. Life is not about the bigger guy coming out on top, using terror and threats to control the smarter yet weaker people on the bottom.

So as I go out looking for Fincher that Wednesday night, patrolling my way through the Narrows, I can't pass by a scene that is an obvious show case of bullying for power. The terrified screams hit my ears before I can see any of the people in the empty parking lot. As I approach the scene I land lightly on the top of a burned out streetlamp, looking down on the scene with my enhanced night vision from my cowl. In the middle of the parking lot there is a circle of men, most of them probably around their late 20s, all gathered around a smaller figure in the middle. With a little more analysis of the situation I see it's a boy, maybe around 7 or 8, looking scared out of his wits as his eyes dart back and forth, looking for a way to escape.

My cowl picks up the words as one of the men begin to talk, his voice oily and suave. I can easily tell he's a persuasive guy, a smooth-talker who tricks people into doing what he wants them to do. "Calm down kid, the less you struggle the less this is going to hurt, you realize that don't you?" I almost gag as I hear him. It's obvious that they're planning to gang rape the boy, and they think there's nobody there to stop them from doing just that. The smooth-talker takes a step towards the boy, sliding the pocket knife he'd been holding into a pocket on his jacket, holding a hand out to the trembling 8 year old. The boy takes a few steps backwards away from the man, nearly bumping into another at the other side of the circle. If I didn't work fast this would be a horrific and scarring night for the boy, if he even survived it.

I don't even let my mind process what I'm doing as my body takes over, leaping off the top of the streetlamp and perfected an aerial takedown on one of the men to the smooth-talker's left. He goes down in seconds with a muffled cry as his collarbone is shattered. He lies motionless on the ground the other men get into a fighting stance, looking around desperately in the dark before they catch sight of me, crouched next to the moaning man.

"It's Owlet!" one of them exclaims. I give a little smirk, sweeping my leg under one of the guys nearest to me, knocking him on his ass in seconds. As he hits the ground his head slams into the edge of a pothole. He's dazed as I slam my elbow into his diaphragm then give a sharp kick to his head. He goes limp, his breathing shallow as I jump to my feet, getting into an automatic fighting stance.

I'd taken down two in less than a minute, but there were still at least 6 more, including the smooth-talker who was still advancing towards the kid as the boy tried to get away. One of the thugs charged at me, brandishing a baseball back that I hadn't seen before. Using my small frame to my advantage, I ducked his wild swings, shoving my elbow backwards into his stomach. As he doubled over in pain I wrapped an arm around the bat and quickly used my position on the weapon as a lever, twisting it from his hand, leaving the man on the ground groaning in pain.

Another thug raced at me from behind but I was prepared for his attacks. He didn't even get a hit in on me as I spun to face him, the baseball bat still in my hands as I used it to target the most sensitive spots on his body, slamming the brunt of the bat into his neck, using the side of it as it was smashed into his thigh, forcing him to the ground. With a final crack of the bat on his head, he fell over, unconscious.

I wasn't quite ready when two of them rushed at me as once, grabbing me by the armpits and forcing my arms behind me painfully. I hissed but didn't cry out as a third guy came up with another pocket knife, an evil smile on his face as he approached me. The man was nearly in range to slice at me when I used his chest as a spring board, kicking him to the ground and flipping my body over the two men holding me. One of the men holding me did exactly what I'd wanted him to; he let go of my arm as I twisted it out of his hold. But the other guy kept a death grip on my left arm and as I flipped I could feel my shoulder seemingly slip out of the joint, clicking painfully against my bones. I let out a pained yelp, quickly knife-handing the man's arm that held me at the elbow, forcing him to let go. Before he could orient himself once more, I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanking him down to my level as I head-butted him as hard as I could. The combination of the cowl's hard composition and the electric shock from someone without my biometric readings touching the cowl knocked him out within seconds and he was on the ground with his friends in no time.

The two thugs, the other one that had held me and the guy with the knife, had regrouped and were going to try their luck once more at coming after me. Apparently the one who had held me had found the discarded bat I'd used on his comrade and was now holding it with a death grip as he and knife man made their way towards me. I gave a little triumphant laugh as I dodged an attack from the baseball bat with a simple tuck and roll. As I crouched in the gravel of the parking lot I waited for them to strike at me once more, slipping a bola from my utility belt without their knowledge. As the got closer I threw the bola at them, watching as it curled around the two, binding them together within seconds. With their balance compromised, the two fell to the ground, one smashing his face on the gravel.

I climbed to my feet with a satisfied smirk on my face, letting myself catch my breath. For a moment I thought I was done here a little muffled yelp came from the boy. I turned to my left to see the smooth-talker holding the boy in a choke hold, his hand clamped over the kid's mouth. The boy's eyes were wide with fear as he struggled to get away. With his other hand, the man held his pocket knife to the kid's throat, poised and ready to kill him.

"It's your move, Owlet," the man growls with a sick smile on his face. He digs the point of the knife into the boy's neck, who struggles even more as the first droplets of blood start to blossom from the wound, dripping down his neck. "You can't get me, can you?"

"Let him go," I order, my voice cold and hard. My tone is unforgiving, and if this man had been easy to intimidate he would've been cowering in his boots right about now. But he held his ground giving a cold laugh that rivaled my order.

"You seriously think that's going to work?" he mocked, glee in his eyes as he angled his elbow higher, ready to plunge the knife into the boy's throat. I took a moment to assess everything around me. My left shoulder was screaming in pain but I ignored it, noticing how the man was not even slightly scared of me. The boy looked like he was about to pass out, now. His eyes were as big as dinner plates and all the color had gone from his face. If I didn't work fast this boy would be dead. Ignoring my now useless left arm, I searched in my utility belt for a Batarang, extending it slowly so the man could see what I had.

"Ooh, now she's getting out her toys," he said with a little laugh. "Things are finally going to get interesting."

I aimed the Batarang, squinting my eyes beneath the cowl, hoping that I was aiming this correctly. I only had one shot to get this right. A boy's life was on the line. I needed to work fast and this needed to be perfect. With a little grimace I threw the Batarang, watching as it flew at least two feet to the left of the man, not even coming near him. He saw this and a smile broke on his face.

"That's seriously the best you can-" he cut himself off as a scream of pain erupted from him. I smirked as he staggered away from the boy, trying desperately to yank the Batarang that was now buried in his shoulder. He fell to his knees, still trying to get the weapon out. I strutted over to him, forcing his head up to look at me, triumph etched into my face.

"It's not called a Batarang for nothing," I tell him sweetly, smashing my knee into his face. He falls to the ground with moans of pain, joining his comrades on the ground. I turn slowly to see the boy. He's shivering in the night but some of the color has now returned to his face and he's not trembling as hard as he had been. I walk towards him and he only shies away a little bit. I kneel down so my face is level with his.

"I thought you were a bad guy," he tells me, his voice breaking only the slightest bit with fear.

"Do I look like a bad guy?" I ask him.

"Yes," he replies sincerely.

"Do I talk like a bad guy?"

"Sometimes," he admits.

"Do I act like a bad guy?" I give him a pointed look but it's lost on him through the cowl.

He shakes his head immediately. "No! You took down all those guys! There was like 12 of them!" I only counted 8 but I didn't correct the boy. "So are you a good guy?"

I make a little thinking noise that makes the boy give a small little giggle. "Well, I'm not a bad guy, but I'm not a good guy."

"So you're an okay guy?" he asks me. I give a little grin, but this time it's not condescending.

"I guess you could say that," I agree with a nod. "I'm an okay guy." He smiles at me and I don't expect it as he darts forward and gives me a hug. He puts a little too much pressure on my left shoulder but I ignore it as I pat him on the back with my right arm. "Okay, do you know how to get home from here, little guy?" He lets go of me and shakes his head, the look of fear returning to his face.

"No…" he whimpers, looking down at his shoes.

"Hey, look at me," I say softly. He obeys and for once doesn't look intimidated by me. "It's gonna be all-right, okay? I'm going to take you to the Police Department and they're going to help you find your house, okay? How does that sound?" he gives me a little nod and I assume that means "Good" so I stand, looking down at the boy. "Do you want a piggy-back ride?" I ask him. His eyes light up and he nods immediately. I bend down a little and he jumps onto my back. Once again my shoulder is on fire with pain but I push through it, starting a light jog as I make my way towards the Police Department.

It takes us about half an hour to get there, and the kid apparently got very comfortable with me because he started to talk and he didn't stop talking. It was a good distraction, though. I was able to listen to his babbling to keep my mind off the pain and the exhaustion that was beginning to set into my body. When we finally reached the Police Headquarters I could've sang I was so happy. I walked right in the front door, not even bothering with stealth at this this of night with a little elementary school kid clinging onto my back. When I made my way into the lobby the secretary behind the desk looked extremely shocked to see me.

"Where's Gordon?" I asked gruffly. My tone tells her how much I really don't want to put up with shit tonight. She points at a door behind me and I follow her directions without another word. The boy has gone silent at this time, clinging onto me a little bit harder as if he was scared and I was the only one to reassure him.

The door led to a hallway with a bunch of empty offices and cubicles. There were only a few people still at work at this hour, and they openly stopped their tapping away at their computers to stop and gawk at me as I waltzed through the corridor with a kid clinging onto my back. Finally the cubicles led way to an office with the light on but the shades pulled down on the windows of the glass walls. I open the door without knocking, surprising Gordon as I come in, setting the kid down in a cushioned chair and closing the door behind me.

"This kid was about to get attacked in the Narrows, he needs to get back home. I'm sure you guys can handle that, right?" I ask. My voice is more tired that I cared to show but with Gordon I didn't really think it mattered. He looked over me almost suspiciously, analyzing my black Owl suit with scrutinizing eyes.

"I liked the grey one better," he tells me gruffly, getting up from his desk to come around to the boy. He kneels down to the kid's level and speaks softly to him. "Hey there, what's your name?"

"Tom," replies the boy shyly, looking down at his hands.

"Tom what?" prods Gordon gently.

"Tom Hemsworth."

"That's a nice name you've got there," Gordon says, making the kid smile easily. "Do you know your parent's names?"

Tom looks up at Gordon, suddenly looking extremely pleased with himself as he nods furiously. "Yup! My momma's name is Helen and my dad's name is Robert."

"That's really good," Gordon says, giving the boy a smile. The Commissioner grabs his walkie-talkie from his belt, speaking into it clearly. "Can I get Thompson to come down to my office?" A quick "Roger that" is heard and in a few seconds the door opens to show a kindly looking woman with deep chocolate skin, her hair pulled into a tight bun at the top of her head.

"You called?" she asks Gordon, her eyes flickering suspiciously from me to the boy and back to the Commissioner.

"Can you take this kid to get something to eat and search databases for Helen and Robert Hemsworth?" he asks. "This kid needs to get back home."

"It'd be my pleasure," Officer Thompson says with a kind smile. She holds her hand out for Tom to take as he climbs off the chair. Before he leaves, the boy attacks me with another hug that I'm yet again not prepared for. The pain in my shoulder screams but I hug the kid back with my right arm.

"Thanks Owlet," he whispers in my ear.

"Anytime, kid," I say with a pained smile, waving at him as Officer Thompson takes him away. As the door closes I get back up from my crouched position and lean heavily on Gordon's desk.

"Rough night?" Gordon asks. He sizes me up, looking at the odd angle my shoulder is at.

"Had to fight 8 of them to save the kid," I mutter.

"Screwed up your shoulder pretty bad," he notes. "Dislocated?"

"I think so," I say, attempting to shrug. The motion forces me to cry out in pain, my face contorted with the agony of it. "Yea, most definitely."

"Here," Gordon says, coming up in front of me. He places the palm of one hand on the front of my shoulder as the other stabilizes itself on the opposite side of my neck. Before I'm quite ready for him to, he shoves my shoulder back in place. It slides into the socket with a satisfied click and immediately all the pain is gone. I test out my shoulder, rotating my arm a bit as if I'm a pitcher. It feels as good as new, like the injury had never even happened.

"I'm going to have to remember that for next time," I mutter, massaging my shoulder. "Thanks, Commish."

"Thank you for bringing the kid here," he says, the gruffness back in his voice. "It was a good thing to do."

"What?" I ask him, looking at him from the corner of my eye though he can't tell. "You think just because I'm playing the part of the bad guy I always have to act it?" Gordon sighs.

"Get your smart mouth out of here, Ryder," he sighs. "Some of us have work to do."

"You should get better hours, Commish," I tell him. "Staying up all night is for the bats." I give him a small smile before quickly exiting through the window, making my way out onto the streets of Gotham without a single glance back.


	26. Bad Luck

AN: Hey guys, been at a Law and CSI conference all week so I couldn't update. Even now I'm at the airport, trying to get this all written up before I have to board. Please review, I need more feedback on what you guys want to see!

If there's one thing I'm really not good at all, it would be noticing big details that could be important. Sometimes I was just blindsided by the entirety of the situation, I would miss the crucial aspects, and end up getting shit for it. Let's say, for example, there's a giant dog charging at me (this is completely random, don't judge my improvisational skills). If the situation is really intense, say I'm fighting a band of ninjas who want to kill me and I need to save a prisoner before they die from lead poisoning or something, then I'll acknowledge the fact that there indeed is a giant dog rushing at me. However, I'll completely miss the fact that the giant dog has accompanying giant teeth that are prepared to rip me to shreds, and in that situation, without any back up, I'd be totally screwed.

The battle last night when I was saving little Tom was a lot like the analogy with the dog. I was all caught up in fighting the baddies to save the boy in the beginning, then after saving the boy I was preoccupied with getting him somewhere safe. Even after he was secured at the Police Station with help, all I was really worried about was checking out Gotham a little more and then getting to sleep. Never once did it cross my mind that someone might have seen Owlet tromping across town with an 8 year old hanging off her back in the middle of the night. Even worse, the assumptions they could make from that sight would have been worse than them just seeing me. But the part where it gets really bad? The people who saw me carrying Tom, also saw me helping him to the GCPD. Owlet, a self-proclaimed anti-hero working in the drug ring in Gotham, saved a little boy and brought him to the Police Department.

I'm not sure if you people are quite aware of how something like that can harsh a girl's rep. Considering one of the only reasons the Cleaner allowed himself to trust me was my aggression towards taking down Fincher, I'm almost 100% positive that if he heard about my act of charity, he'd have a hit on me faster than I could say "Dude, trust me." What I wasn't sure about was how widespread and fast and far this information would get out. When the idea that someone had seen me first occurred it was as I lay in bed trying to fall off to sleep before going back to school on Thursday. I had assumed it would be all over the Gotham Underworld, like with the Cleaner, and maybe Penguin or Clay Face, if they paid attention to small time "villains" like Owlet. But the one thing I never thought would happen, was the whole thing going viral.

I stepped into Gotham Academy Thursday morning, my pleated skirt on neatly with my white shirt pressed perfectly and barely tucked in, my hair in a relatively calm state (for my hair, at least), doing my best to look like a respectable student at GA. It didn't change the fact people were giving me strange looks, but I would've been naïve to assume otherwise. Private schools were run by gossip, I had come to find out, and I was a good story to pass around with all my conspiracies. I was sure Dick was now pretty popular with the "In" crowd considering he'd been the victim. But as I walked the halls, looking around, I could see that the students of my school weren't discussing how adorable Dick Grayson was or what I bitch I was. They were talking about Owlet.

From what I could tell, people were still hung up on the whole "Owlet goes to Gotham Academy" thing, but as I looked around I could see some people pointing furiously at their smartphones with their perfectly manicured hands. Sneaking a peek, thanks to my training from the Dark Knight, I was able to see they were actually checking the news on their phones. And on the front page of the online Gotham Gazette? Owlet, with an accompanying grainy cell phone camera video of the anti-hero giving a little kid a piggy back ride and eventually waltzing into the Police Station. It took all my control not to let my mouth drop open as I saw the article. The title blazed at the top in bold, ugly letters: **GOTHAM'S NEWEST VIGILANTE TURNING A NEW LEAF**.

"'Turning a New Leaf'?" I question with a dubious look. Whoever was writing articles at the Gazette should start working on their titles. Around me the bell to get to first period rang out and the rush of students going to their classes pushed me along until I was finally to my Biology classroom, taking my seat in the back and waiting for the lesson to begin. Barbara came in just before the bell rang, taking her seat next to me without a word. I didn't even think her green eyes darted over to look at me at all, as if I wasn't even sitting there. Perplexed by her behavior, I turned to the front of the class, wondering just what the teacher was going to torture us (cough, cough, me) with today. I was surprised to see it was a substitute teacher, an old lady who identified herself as "Ms. Scarlett Noble." She had a very pronounced accent, as if she were stuck on speaking like an airy Southern Belle. If she hadn't been as elderly and not nearly shaped in all manners like a toad, she might have been a quaint little teacher.

As the sub assigned us work to do I shot glances to Barbara from the corner of my eye, wondering what was up with her. She didn't meet my glances even once, hunching up her shoulder towards me as she leaned forward over the table to work on her sub sheet, her long red hair serving as a curtain that severed eye contact between the two of us. I gave a minute scoff but tried my best to focus on my own work as well.

By the end of the hour I was completely nodding off as I filled in the innocuous questions on cell division in the body cells. Biology was so easy for me it was almost a crime. Trying to give Barbara a taste of her own medicine, I completely disregarded her existence as I turned in my paper, slipped my bag onto my shoulders, and left the class at a hurried pace. As I was halfway down the hall I heard a single "Mona, wait!" accompanied with the sound of rushing footsteps, which I was able to pick up over the background noise of slamming lockers and talking teenagers. I look leisurely over my shoulder to see Barbara Gordon rushing to catch up with me, shoving some loose papers into her half-way open messenger bag as she makes her way towards me. For some reason I actually stop, crossing my arms over my chest as Barbara comes nearer.

"We need to talk," she says sternly without even the barest hint of an attempt at small talk. Her face is dead serious even though her hair has gotten kind of crazily fly away since her hurry to get out of class.

"What, you pretend I don't exist all period then suddenly want to have a conversation with me?" I ask coldly, unable to keep the disdain from my voice. I'd pegged Barbara as one of those normal people I could actually stand to be friends with, and friends didn't randomly ignore you in the only class you shared.

"It's important," she stresses, her eyes narrowing almost dangerously. Was that a challenge I heard in her voice?

"What could possibly be more important than getting to my next class?" I ask sarcastically, more bite in my voice than usual.

"Owlet." The one word is enough to make me pale although I try to play it off as if the word hasn't fazed me at all.

"Why would I care about some teenaged vigilante, Barbara?"

"Mona, don't play games with me. We need to talk." Barbara can't seem to stress the necessity of this discussion, and after her one word explanation, I'm almost eager to hear what she has to say. If she'd been passing along gossip she wouldn't have been so serious about the whole thing. Telling someone that Owlet was Bette Kane wasn't all that serious of an accusation, and it was routinely one made by the bimbos that attending GA just because they could. Barbara was intelligent enough to transfer into Honors Bio, and if she had something to say to me about Owlet I think Creative Writing could wait for a little bit.

The two of us milled around in the hall until it was completely empty and we were officially late for our second period. Barbara looked around as if she was nervous someone was going to come around the corner suddenly. Pulling me to a darkened corner Barbara looks piercingly at me with her vibrant green eyes. "I know your secret," she starts bluntly. I can't help it as I'm taken aback immediately.

"What secret?" I immediately try to deny any involvements I may have with the winged vigilante that was now virally popular. It's nearly impossible to wipe the panic that I know is building up in my eyes.

"I know that you're Owlet," she stresses my name in a whisper, looking around conspiratorially. "Don't even try to deny it."

"You're full of shit, Barb," I scoff, not even trying to keep my voice down. Maybe with a stroke of luck an administrator would come around and kick our butts into detention for trying to skip class. I looked around the hall but saw no such luck coming around the corner.

"C'mon, Mona. It'll be easier if you just admit it."

"There's nothing to admit!" I tell her, my voice rising even more but now in hysteria. "I'm not Owlet, okay? Just drop it!"

"If you're not Owlet then why are there so many clues pointing to the fact that you are?" she challenges, narrowing her eyes at me. I scoff, hoping I seem confident in my denial.

"Clues?" I say dubiously. "What are you, Sherlock Holmes?"

"Coincidence One," Barbara starts, looking triumphant already as she speaks. "Whenever you disappear, Owlet always seems to pop up somewhere else."

"Oh yeah?" I say, rolling my eyes, trying to keep my freak out under wraps. "Have any examples for your grand assumption, Barb?"

"You were going Tuesday and Wednesday this week, the only two days in recent times that Owlet has been seen out and about in the daytime." I force myself not to bite down on my lip, knowing I'll only look guiltier.

"Those were crazy little happen-stances," I tell her, my air of confidence quickly waning.

"Then how can you explain how pretty much all of the injuries Owlet sustains show up on you?" she asks me, starting to list off various injuries seemingly off the top of her head. I'm too panicked to really listen, trying to plan out a way in my head that this could turn around and somehow go better for me.

"That's still not proof," I tell her, the anxiety creeping slowly into my voice.

"Then how about the background check that I did on you?" she asks me sweetly, her eyes holding a victorious gaze that I can't match.

"Background check?" I echo, my stomach dropping to my feet. "What background check?"

"I pulled all the files with your name in them at the Police Station and read up on you. In your witness statement of the day your parents died in the fire-" I can't help but flinch at how casually she says it. "It says that you were muttering 'Fincher' over and over yet you wouldn't explain to anyone what you meant. Everyone took it as a strange side effect from the shock of being in the fire and took nothing of it. But you were talking about Jerome Fincher, weren't you?"

My lips are pressed into a tight line as she speaks and I don't even react when she asks the question. Barbara takes this as a yes, going on with her little speech.

"Which would mean that Fincher was somehow at the scene of the fire, either you saw him or something that pointed to him. That ties directly into Owlet's hate of Fincher. Didn't you claim a month or so ago at the gala you crashed that Fincher had ruined your life? Killing someone's parents seems like a pretty big life ruiner…"

"Barb," I say quietly, on the verge of tears at this point. The stress and the anxiety are finally building to a breaking point and I'm having an impossible time trying to contain them. She ignores me, easily continuing with her show of how I'm Gotham's most popular anti-hero.

"And your parents were inventors, weren't they?" she asks me, the question obviously rhetorical. "Specializing in 'giving humans animalistic qualities to improve the lifestyles and innovations of the future'." The quote is from a statement my parents had given on their experiments what seemed like decades ago though it was only a few years. "Experiments they're credited for include not only surgeries to give animal-like characteristics, but things that you could just slip on to improve the aerodynamic and naturally strengthened properties of the human body. And wouldn't you say that the Owl suit that Owlet wears does just that?" Barbara looks at me, glory shining in her eyes. She knows she's got me right where she wants me. She's thrown so much evidence into my face it'd be stupid at this point to deny anything, as much as I still want to.

"Are you the only one with a secret?" I ask quietly. My eyes, which had been cast down at me feet the entirety of the conversation now flick up to meet Barbara's. She looks taken aback for a moment, surprise etched into the features of her face before they smooth over.

"What do you mean?" she asks carefully.

"The only people who would be this interested and invested into finding out if I was Owlet would be Batman, Robin and Batgirl. The first two already know, so the third person is really the only option." The assumption is a big jump, I'll admit. I was really only going off of how nosy Barbara had been just to get all the clues to see if I was Owlet or not. "So why would Barbara Gordon be interested unless she wasn't giving all of the information on her as well? I mean, it would make sense. You were raised by Jim Gordon who's worked in the Police business for who knows how long? You had a sense of justice ingrained into you since the moment you could walk. And living in a corrupted place such as Gotham, it only makes sense that you'd decided to don the cape and the cowl as well." The girl purses her lips and I know that I've got her just as much as she's gotten me. "So what now?" I ask her, my voice growing stronger as I break the silence of the hallway. "Do we just face off here? We've fought before, why should this be any different?" Almost unconsciously I slip into a fighting stance, sliding my foot back so my position is steadier. My fists raise themselves the tiniest bit, ready to go but not challenging the girl before me.

"No," she says quietly, now as pale as I had been when she'd first mentioned Owlet. "No, we play it cool."

"'Play it cool'?" I ask. "What the hell do you mean by that? Ignore the fact that we're both vigilantes at night and pretend that we're just normal kids, friends, at a prestigious private school?"

"Yes," Barbara replies. "We leave it all on the battlefield. We can't bring our differences into our normal lives. That's compromising for both of us."

"You're okay with keeping my identity secret?" I ask her with a venomous tone that I can't seem to help.

"Do I really have a choice?" she spits back just as furiously. "If I tell everyone you're Owlet you'll tell everyone I'm Batgirl and we'll both be screwed."

"Fine, so is this a truce?"

"A truce insinuates that I can trust you."

"Ouch, that hurts, Barb. I thought we were friends."

"We were. Owlet and Batgirl never were."

"Fine. Then are you going to trust me for this one thing?"

Barbara gives a long sigh and I can tell she's struggling with the choice. "If my dad and Batman and Robin can trust you, I suppose I can." She sticks out her hand abruptly and I take it, shaking it awkwardly. Both our hands drop and I give her a strange look.

"That's it? We shake on it and we're good? You're not going to attack me if I go out on the streets at night?"

Barbara has already begun backing away from me at this point, shouldering her messenger bag. Her eyes meet mine almost dangerously and she smiles at me though it isn't friendly. "Guess we'll just have to let fate play it out."

* * *

><p>As I stepped into Modern History that day I could feel the awkwardness radiating from everyone around me. It was obvious my presence here wasn't welcomed. Apparently punching a popular rich kid in the face was frowned upon at Gotham Academy, even with my new reputation. I looked around as I walked in switching my backpack to my other shoulder as Ms. Dee greeted me at the door with the usual handshake, a grim look on her face.<p>

"Mona," she says evenly, looking at me sternly. It's a look that I don't really like on her; it ages her even more than her normal tired expression did.

"Good morning, Ms. Dee," I say with a forced smile. The encounter with Barbara a few class periods ago still has me shaken but I do my best to seem normal. As normal as I can, anyway. "What did I miss in class?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," she says with a frown. "We started an independent project on Tuesday and I need to catch you up to speed."

"Okay," I say with a nod. At this point I'm not even attempting to be cheerful, I'm just trying to be civil, to keep things rolling so that everything runs smoothly. This day cannot end soon enough. "Do I need to stay after class to get caught up?"

She shakes her head. "No, everyone will be researching today, so I can personally get you up to speed. Take your seat and I'll get to you when class begins." I nod once more and take my regular seat at the back, surprised she hadn't moved me since the incident with Dick. A few minutes later he comes in just as the bell signals the end of passing time, sliding into his seat and pretending I don't exist. Dee starts class up but I ignore what she's saying as I occasionally look at Dick from the corner of my eyes. Did he know Batgirl's true identity? Did Barbara know that I knew who Robin was? All of these questions about identities were making my head spin. All I needed right now was a chance to lay everything out on the table and get all my facts straight.

Eventually when everyone breaks off to doing their own things, Dee comes to the back of the class, taking Dick's seat next to me. "Alright, here's the papers you'll need." Dee hands me a thick packet and I can't help but internally grimace. Big packets were never a good sign. "The project is a job shadow opportunity at a local Gotham business or corporation. On Tuesday the class had their pick of the city and where to choose from. You're going to get the one that's left, hope that's all right." Dee doesn't even look sympathetic for me and there's a sinking feeling in my gut that I've gotten the worst place Gotham could possibly off for a job shadowing experience.

"So, where do I have?" I ask, almost not wanting to hear the answer. She looks grimly at me.

"Arkham Asylum," she tells me. I bite my lip, giving a little nod. Yup. That was pretty much the worst place Gotham could offer as a job shadowing experience. "You'll need to study up on it. The facility already expects you to shadow next week so that's already all set up. All you need to do is call them to ask about what you'll need to know about their procedures and anything you'll need to do beforehand. Understand?" Dee gives me a pointed look and I can just barely see some regret in her eyes. She doesn't really want to send me to job shadow at Arkham, but she knows this will serve as a well enough punishment for me.

"Perfectly," I mutter, flipping through the packet and seeing all the paperwork I'd have to do before going. This was not going to be a fun project for me. I'm sure other people got more interesting and safe places, like Gotham Hospital, and Gotham University, and the local courthouse. Maybe someone even got to job shadow at Wayne Enterprises. I wouldn't put it past Bruce to take this chance to add more good reputation to the Wayne name. He was getting better about noticing when he was looking suspicious in his normal life, though it was true he wasn't the best at being inconspicuous.

I sighed heavily to myself. Today was shaping up to be pretty awful, quite frankly. My secret identity had gotten out to someone else (how many people was that now? 6?), Dick was being, well, a dick, and now I was forced to job shadow at one of the most dangerous places in the entire city, maybe even the country. It seemed to me as if all the bad luck in my life had chosen today to show its face, and there didn't seem any way that this day was going to start looking up.

"Mona," someone said as if trying to get me out of a trance. Startled, I looked up, shaking my thoughts away as I focused on the person before me. It was Dick, who stood at my table, looking down with a frown on his face. His blue eyes were flat and dull and it wasn't a very good look for him at all.

"Yeah?" I ask, not quite sure what else to say to him. I'm shocked that he's even talking to me at all.

"You got Arkham for the job shadowing project, right?" he asks quickly as if the matter is urgent. I nod slowly.

"Yeah…" There's nothing else really to say to him, and I'm unsure of where he's going with the conversation.

"Good," he sighs, looking like he's had a load lifted from his shoulders. "You need to meet me after school, at the fountain," he adds hastily. "You need to come home with me."

"Why?" I ask immediately, wondering what could possibly be going on. My brain couldn't function fast enough to figure out what possibilities could've have existed, yet the first few that I did flash to weren't very pleasant. One, Dick was going to get revenge for my punching him, and it wasn't going to go very well for me. Two, Bruce was going to tell me something about Owlet, whether it was a new mission that I'd have to do with the Cleaner, or even finally confronting the Cleaner (both sounded very exhausting to me).

"Bruce," was all Dick replied. "You'll be there?" he asked me, his eyes meeting mine with a piercing look. It hit me then how far apart we'd grown in the span of a few weeks. We had once trusted each other, once depended on one another. Now we were forced to reassure that the other would show up when promised, that we'd be able to cooperate long enough. We held the stare there for a few moments before I nodded slowly.

"Yea," I said slowly, wondering how we could've gotten so far apart in such a short amount of time. "I'll be there." I would make sure of.


	27. Fool Me Twice

AN: High school sucks, doesn't it? I've spent so much time away from Owlet because of school I keep forgetting the time frame of it all. So if there's any inconsistencies just tell me, I might fix them later. What really surprises me is how I go weeks and weeks without updating anything and people still favorite and follow this story. That means a lot guys. They're like the pushes that get me into motion. Anyway, read, review, enjoy. Let me know what you think.

Fool Me Twice

The trip to Wayne Manor was almost completely silent, not even Alfred was up to filling the awkward quietness that filled the void of Bruce's fancy car. Occasionally the butler would break the silence with the casual "The weather's looking up this afternoon" or "Crime's got to be down tonight with all that police activity lately". Dick and I said nothing, trying our best not to look at each other throughout the whole ride, our eyes glued to our respective windows, pretending like the other wasn't even there. Sometimes Alfred would even branch out to ask one of us a specific question ("Things seems to be quiet at school, wouldn't you say, Master Grayson?" and "Are you enjoying your time back at the Academy, Miss Ryder?"). I couldn't really blame Alfred for trying to start up a conversation. He must've been put off by the stark coldness that seemed to resonate from Dick and me. Even though Alfred didn't know the whole story, our actions now were more than enough to tell him something was up.

When we reached the mansion I didn't even hesitate to jump out of the car, yanking my backpack up with me, giving a hasty thank-you to the butler. Dick seemed to have the same idea and we both made our way quickly inside the manor, not a word said between us since 4th hour Mod History. We walked side by side down the long, wide empty halls, our footsteps the only sound in the mansion as our quick strides led us to the secret entrance of the Batcave. I had no idea what Bruce wanted to talk to me about, but it was either going to go very well or very badly. That's how everything in my life seemed to be happening lately.

Tromping down the secret staircase to the Batcave, Dick got to the bottom before me, hastily throwing his backpack to the side as he rushed off out of sight, disappearing into the shadows in the blink of an eye. One minute he was there, the next it was like he'd never even come down in the first place. I set my bag down more carefully on the stairs, taking a few tentative steps into the Batcave. The last time I'd been here was to get more gadgets with Carolina. Instantly I bit my lip, wondering if that was why Bruce had called me here. Was he going to bust me from stealing from the goddamn Batman? I tried to look calm as I walked farther into the shadows but my nerves had hit an all new spike and there was nothing I could do to calm them.

Making my way to the Bat-computer, I looked around for any sign of Bruce, but he wasn't seated in his normal spot in his chair, and he didn't seem to be around the uniform closet or the weaponry. It seemed that, for now at least, I was the only person in the Batcave, assuming that Dick had gone off to go work out and wasn't creepily watching me from the shadows, hanging precariously off a stalactite as he analyzed my every move. I shook off the paranoia. Dick was strange, but not quite that strange. I mulled around the Batcave for a few minutes, leafing casually through some papers that had been strewn across a makeshift desk/operating table, looked around at the various chemical mixtures Bruce had lying around, and even practiced throwing Batarangs around for a little while. Almost 10 minutes after getting to the cave, Bruce finally made his way down the stairs, slipping off his jacket while simultaneously loosening his tie, something I had never expected to be anatomically possible. He caught sight of me and gave a terse nod as I sat with my legs swinging back and forth on some railing keeping people from tumbling into one of the many deep abysses the Batcave had to offer.

"Glad you could come," Bruce tells me in his regular voice, nothing like Batman's gargling marbles growl.

"Did I really have a choice?" I ask, hopping off the rail. "When the Batman tells you to come to his secret hide out, you'd be an idiot not to comply." I smile a little at Bruce's quiet scoff, glad I got a reaction out of him. "It'd be like telling the FBI 'Nah, man, I don't feel like coming in for an interrogation today. Maybe next weekend'."

"Snarky as always," the man comments, quickly draping his coat and tie over the computer chair before sitting in it, leaning over the controls as he typed away.

"It comes naturally."

"You must be so blessed."

"Is that sarcasm I hear?"

"More along the lines of apathy."

"Darn, I thought we were making some progress," I sigh with mock disappointment, walking cautiously towards Bruce with my hands behind my back. He didn't seem to hold anything against me after the last time we'd talked, though I was still a bit wary about what I was doing and saying. I still remembered the slap I'd been rewarded with when Fincher had made his first move in the war of freaking me out. Bruce, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to anything that he wasn't dealing with right at the moment. "Why am I here, though?" I ask, hoping that the blunt way was the best to go. Bruce doesn't even look at me as he continues typing away, pulling up news bulletins, documents, and pictures on the seemingly mile long Batcomputer screen.

"Recently there's been rumors floating around that inside Arkham, there is going to be an all-inclusive break out. It's said that the inmates are bribing the staff members and that Hugo Strange, the newest warden of Arkham, is letting the whole thing go as planned." As I look around at the pictures and papers plastered on the screen I can see little bits of evidence that start to prove bits and pieces of this rumor true, from the unwillingness of Dr. Strange to comment on the drastic staff changes at Arkham, to the suspiciously low amount of people that have tried to break out in the last few months. If this rumor was true, the inmates of Arkham had been planning this breakout meticulously, and for a long time. That could only mean the break, if it was actually true, was going to happen soon.

"Okay…" I say slowly, drinking in all of the facts. "So what does that have to do with me?"

"Thought you would've pieced it together by now," Bruce grunts, almost glad to see me stumped. I guess he got his kicks from being two steps ahead of everyone else.

"Sorry, I haven't. You wouldn't mind revealing your actual intentions, now would you Bruce?" I asked, obvious sarcasm and annoyance leaking into my voice.

"You didn't get that job shadowing position at Arkham by accident," he tells me slowly as if assuming I'm going to understand like I've been smacked in the face with reason. "You got that assignment because I want you to go into Arkham and see if the rumors are true. The only way one of us could get into Arkham was if we were incarcerated in there or if we worked there, and job shadowing is as close as we could get. Owlet's going in undercover to bust that break out if it's really true."

"So I'll be like a spy?" I asked, a little smirk crossing my face. The immediate and appealing coolness factor was temporarily distracting me from the repercussions that this plan could have.

"Essentially…" Bruce says slowly. "But you're not going to be there for any other reason besides seeing if the breakout is a real thing or if it's only a rumor. Understand? That means you're not going in there looking for a fight or anything like that. You're just gathering information."

"Covert op, then?" I ask, doing the worst impression of a James Bond British drawl. "Sounds like a job for Ryder. Mona Ryder." I think I almost make Bruce smile a little (or at least, frown a little less).

"You have to treat this seriously, Mona," he warns, but his tone isn't as harsh as it usually is. "I'm trusting you to get the information we need."

"I will," I reassure him with what I hope is a convincing smile. And even if the smile isn't convincing, it's sure as hell legitimate. Bruce just told me he _trusted me._ What other reason to smile could there ever be in a world where death and destruction and deceit were creeping up the steps to your front door? One of the most powerful, brilliant, and pure men in the entire world told me he trusted me. And quite frankly I was tickled pink. "You've got my word on this, Bruce."

"Good," he says gruffly. "You should get home soon. Knowing you it'll be a long night, I'm sure."

"Have you been keeping tabs on me or something?"

"The cowl and utility belt have GPS units implanted, I can see where you've gone, and every night for at least a week you've been going out on the town, for patrol or other reasons, I don't know. I do know that if you want to even fit some sleep into your schedule, the best bet would be now."

"You're one to talk about sleep," I scoff. Bruce has been known to go days without a single wink and still function like he's the most well rested person in the world. "If you can do it, so can I."

"You're an undeveloped teenage girl. I think your need for sleep is greater than mine." His curt response makes me scowl a little but I ignore the reply, moving instead to go gather my bag at the bottom of the stairs.

"I assume you'll be keeping in touch with me until the job shadow project?" I ask loud enough for Bruce to hear me from where he's seated. My voice echoes loudly in the cave and it's a very eerie sound.

"Maybe," comes his cryptic reply. I give a little sigh to myself, slipping my bag on and heading up the stairs, shaking my head as I went. Whenever I thought I'd made a little progress with Bruce he'd make it seem like we were still just strangers who happened to know one another in some strange way.

When I'm up in the main part of the house I gravitate to the kitchen, hoping to find Alfred there so I can ask him to drive me to Gotham, but he's nowhere in sight. I fill up a glass of water and drain it quickly as I drop my bag back on the floor, my mind set to explore the house.

Wayne Manor really is such a big, beautiful place. A lot of people think it'd be more like a graveyard, considering Bruce's parents are buried out back and their memory seems to haunt the place in an eerie and disturbing way. If you overlook all the sad things that this place can stir up, especially for me when I used to spend so much time here when I was younger with my parents, the mansion really is a wonder. The architecture is astonishing, as well as the obvious care for the place, shown in the near perfect upkeep done not only by Alfred, but Bruce and Dick as well. Bruce wanted to continue his parents legacy, he wanted to show that even after their bodies and souls were gone, their memory would still live on, kept alive here within the walls of Wayne Manor.

Before I really knew where I was going, I ended up in the residential wing of the house, the only place where people actually were besides in the Batcave. I passed by the room I used to sleep in when Bruce was training me, and a few other guest bedrooms before I ended up outside Dick's room, the door open to show him exiting his bathroom, nothing on but a pair of sweatpants as he dried his wet hair with a towel. He caught sight of me as soon as he came out into the bedroom, his eyes narrowing in something that wasn't quite detest but definitely along the lines of it.

"What do you want?" he asks with a sour tone. It was my turn to glare now, but I did so half-heartedly, giving a weak excuse for a dirty look.

"Who says I want anything, Boy Blunder?" I reply, the jesting in my voice barely even there as I look him in the eyes, my obvious exhaustion showing in them.

"Well something's obviously up," he says, acting like he's using his fine-tuned detective skills to uncover a fact no one else would've been able to see, when in reality he was only calling upon the skills of being accustomed to dealing with me, and knowing when I wasn't feeling my best. "Mind not wasting my time and just getting straight to the point?"

"Why would you even care?" I scoff, turning to walk back down the hallway, hoping that Alfred would be back in the kitchen, or even the lounge so that I could get him to take me home.

"Who says I ever stopped?" comes Dick's soft question, his voice low and quiet as he doesn't even move from his spot in his room to carry on the conversation. My steps falter for a moment before I've stopped walking all-together, turning back to look at the doorway of Dick's room. In a few seconds he appears there, looking at me through a dark curtain of his wet hair hanging down in front of his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" I ask. I can't help how vulnerable my tone is. There's just something about Dick that brings out the less-assuming side of me, the weaker side. Yet that wasn't always a bad thing.

"You just shut me out a few weeks ago," he tells me, shaking his head a little as he talks. "It was like one minute we were cool the next you hated my guts. What was I supposed to do? It would've been futile trying to get you to come around myself, so I decided to just return the way you were acting. There didn't seem to be much else I could do. Sooner or later the coldness turned to hostility, and when faced with something like that, what was I supposed to do? Just be the nice guy while you trampled on me? The world doesn't work that way, Mona."

"What are you trying to say?" I ask him, narrowing my eyes as I do so. "That I was the one who pushed you away? That it was my fault we grew apart?"

"Wasn't it?" he asks me, not even attempting to be clever or devious as he does so. He's sincere in wondering what was going on, and I can't help but empathize with that.

"You're the one who took me to a basketball game and told me we wouldn't work out!" I reply, throwing my hands up in the air, not angry but frustrated and confused as I did so. "What was I supposed to think after that? You obviously didn't want to be around me, so why was I going to be nice about it?"

"That's what this is about?" he asks incredulously like he hadn't even anticipated that being the main reason we had been fighting for so long. "Are you kidding me?"

"Why is that hard to believe?" It's harder than I thought to try and keep my tears of frustration down as the conversation goes on. "You completely shut me down!"

Dick smacks himself in the forehead with his palm, groaning something under his breath. He finally looks back at me, his blue eyes meeting mine with unmistakable seriousness in them. "I did that to protect you, Mona."

It was my turn to look taken aback. "What?" I ask, the question ringing through the air for a little bit before Dick finally answers.

"I didn't want to get too close to you because I knew it'd only end badly. One of us was going to get hurt eventually because we cared too much about the other one. And if anything ever happened to you because you were targeting… I didn't think I'd be able to live with that. So I tried to prevent it…" Dick shrugs, looking almost bashful or embarrassed as he does so. "I never intended it to turn out like this."

"What, you mean you and me being at war with each other for weeks wasn't your initial intention?" I can't help the sarcasm, trying the barest bit to hide my relieved smile. I couldn't believe it. The whole thing was a whole misunderstanding between us, and our egos were too big to fix it before it blew up to us practically hating each other.

"Does seem a little farfetched, doesn't it?" He says with a laugh. I was shocked to remember how light his laugh was, something I was embarrassed to admit even to myself. It was strange the little things you missed about someone when they were shut out for weeks at a time.

"So what does this mean now?" I ask, my voice quiet and curious. Our make-up was tentative and I still wasn't sure where we stood in the grand scheme of things. "What are we now?"

"What are we?" he asks, echoing the question. "What do you want to be?"

"I wouldn't mind if we started back as friends," I tell him, smiling as I do so. It feels good to be able to smile at Dick again. "Let's just keep it simple for now."

"I think I can agree with that." Dick's eyes light up as he returns the smile. He sticks his hand out as if we were going to shake on it. I grab it and we shake awkwardly before giving a laugh at our awkwardness and abandon the handshake for a hug instead. Because sometimes all you could really do was hug it out.

"If it's any consolation I'm glad we're not fighting anymore," I tell Dick as my face is buried in his shoulder. He smells clean, like soap, with the faint scent of metal and blood blending into the background.

"I know what you mean," he replies into my hair, stirring the strands by my ear. "It's good to have you back."

When we finally let go there's an undeniable smile on my face, and a matching one on Dick's. It was really was good to have him back. My relationships with everyone these days were so tentative, the few I did have I was going to make sure I held onto them. "I should be leaving soon. I need to get some rest before I patrol tonight."

"What time are you going to be out? Maybe we can meet up and take down a few crooks for old time's sake." He gives a little smirk and I can't help but return it.

"I'm planning on being around Wayne Tower somewhere close to midnight, meet me there if you want in."

"It's a deal, I'll see you then." We give one another a final smile before turning away, Dick going back to his room as I made my way back down the hall, hoping Alfred would be back so I could get him to take me back into town. I'm in the main living room when I hear him crashing pots together in the kitchen and filling some up with water.

"Alfie, can you drive me home?" I rush into the kitchen wasting no time to ask. He looks up somewhat startled at my entrance but wipes the look clean from his face.

"Why yes, Miss Ryder. I'll be out shortly if you want to leave soon," he replies, shaking off his daze and actually looking at me with curious eyes. "You appear to be in a much happier mood," he notes.

"Let's just say I'm glad that I decided to come here this afternoon," I tell him, my smile growing a bit wider. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so happy that I had made-up with someone. When you're younger you seem to have a tiff with someone every five minutes and making up isn't all that difficult to do. Little kids hadn't developed their egos yet, and humility was always the name of the game. But as you get older apologizing gets harder and harder to do, especially when something is misconstrued and twisted from its initial disagreement until you can't even remember who's in the right or the wrong, or who even began holding the grudge in the first place. Couple that with the fact that nobody wants to look weaker when they swallow their pride, and making up is near impossible. But when you actually get through with it, when you actually be the bigger person, or end up coming to an agreement, it might end up being one of the best choices you've ever made.

"Delighted to hear that, Miss Ryder," Alfred says. I can tell by his little grin that he already knows things were patched up between me and Dick. Alfred was just smart like that. "Do you mind leaving now? I had planned to have dinner ready before the masters went on patrol tonight."

"Sounds great to me," I tell him, scooping up my stuff from the floor and following him out to the garage. The drive over is pleasant enough, and within 20 minutes I'm back in Gotham.

"You can just drop me off on the edge of town, Alfie," I tell. "It's almost 4 and I know traffic is going to be pretty awful the closer in town you get."

"Are you sure?" he asks me, worry briefly crossing his face. I nod firmly.

"Yea, I'll be fine. I mean, c'mon, it's me we're talking about." I give a smile that's more confident than I usually feel but Alfred doesn't return it, only nodding hesitantly and pulling the car over to the sidewalk.

"Stay safe, Miss Ryder," he tells me.

I get out of the car, grabbing my stuff. "Don't I always?" I ask him, smirking a little and giving a wave as I shut the car door. Alfred pulls away from the curb and I'm left alone on the outskirts of Gotham. It didn't worry me too much about being out here alone. If I could handle myself at night, why shouldn't I be able to during the day? But even I couldn't shake off an eerie feeling as the sky darkened with coming rain, sending chills down my neck.

I had been walking for almost 20 minutes before I realized someone was tailing me.

He was a big man, wide in the shoulders, with beefy muscles. I only saw him from the corner of my eye when I would turn to look into the street. But when I noticed him the first time, it was impossible not to keep seeing him. Every time I crossed the street, a few minutes later he'd do the same. When I sped up or slowed down, he matched my pace, always staying maybe 10 or 15 feet behind me. I couldn't help it as bile rose in my stomach. I was normally pretty confident about taking down guys that were bigger than me. But he even looked to be too much to handle for Owlet, and I couldn't defend myself without raising some suspicion, considering I was still donning my Gotham Academy uniform. At the moment this was seeming a lot like a lose-lose situation for me.

It took me a few seconds too long to decided that I should run, and the guy tailing me must've been figuratively two-steps ahead, because when I started to take that first step to sprint, he was on me in seconds. His beefy arm curled around my neck, pulling me roughly into his chest and off my feet, the yank making me get immediately disoriented. He was only holding me hard enough to make sure my breaths were coming in gasps, not even to completely suffocate me. A few moments later I knew why. With his other arm he pulled a cloth that looked partially wet and I instantly knew what it was: chloroform. I struggled against him, scratching at his arm with my nails, flailing around, kicking at him with my feet. It was no use as he pressed the wet cloth to my face.

My Bat-training settled in immediately. I pretended to struggle against it, trying to jerk my face away from his hand. When that didn't work I willed my attempts to get away to become weaker and weaker before finally falling limp in his arms, as if I'd actually passed out from the drug. He kept the rag applied to my face for a few more seconds and I could actually feel the chloroform burning the skin on my face. When my lungs felt like they were going to burst, he finally removed the rag, loosening his grip on me as he assumed I was knocked out. Instantly I struck back at him, aiming a sharp elbow into his stomach as I ducked down out of his grasp. I heard the man grunt a little bit but it was obvious the blow had done little to slow him down, but I wasn't about to take anything for granted. I crouched down low trying to shake off my dazed state, and readied myself to actually sprint away this time, hoping that I'd be faster than the brawny man even with my current inhibitions.

And the only time it dawned on me that the man might not be working alone was when a shorter yet just as strong looking man jumped from the alleyway in front of me. In his hands was a thick pipe. My momentum made it impossible to stop, or even change directions as he aimed the pipe at me. My only futile attempt to get away was to crouch down low, hoping that he'd miss me when he swung the pipe for my. In my haste the crouch was miscalculated, and I instantly knew I was going to be in major trouble. I wasn't near low enough as I watched the man with the pipe. Time seemed to slow down as he brought the pipe up in the air before arcing it down in a swing.

I can't even remember getting hit with it.

The next thing I could remember was being engulfed in blackness. Pain began to radiate its way through my body and I couldn't help it as I cried out in pain, more of a yelp than anything else. I was being jostled this way and that, the ground moving beneath me as if it were having a quake or being shaken. It took me longer than it should have to realize I was in a car, and even longer to realize I'd been kidnapped. I swore under my breath, the reasons being a combination of my pain and my current situation. I tried to look around to see where I was. Everything was dark for the most part, but from what I assumed was the back of the truck I could see thin ribbons of light, where I assumed the doors didn't come all the way together. They were no doubt locked from the outside, and the van didn't appear to have any windows that I could break with a well-placed kick. There was no easy way I saw to get out of here.

I began to sit up, crying out once more as I realize that my hands and feet were bound with thin wire. The more I moved the more it cut into my skin. I could already feel the blood running down my ankles and into my shoes. My hands were sticky with partially dried blood as I attempted to move my fingers and keep the circulation in my hands going. Minding my binds, I tried to sit up once more, only to get a kick to the chest that shoved me back down against the hard floor. I wasn't alone back here.

"So the little bitch wakes up finally?" a taunting voice asks. "Was wondering how long that hit was gonna keep you out." Though my mouth wasn't covered or bound didn't dare reply to the man. My mouth usually only ever got me into more trouble.

"What's the matter?" another voice asks. It's gravelly like he's a long time smoker. "Don't have anything to say, Ryder?" For some reason I found the fact that he used my real name more comforting than I should have. But to me it meant that they were actually capturing Mona Ryder, and not trying to get at Owlet. At least for now my secret identity was still safe. But with the way this day was going, I didn't know how long I was actually going to be safe, as Mona or as Owlet.

When I didn't say anything again the first man began to talk once more. "As nice as this chat has been, the drop off point isn't for a while, and I don't think you being conscious for a few hours would be very convenient for the rest of us. We're told you're clever. And we can't have clever here." I can hear one of them getting up, probably balancing himself with a hand on the side of the van as it bumped around while we drove. I could feel him kneel next to me and a few seconds later my eyes were burning with the brightness of a flashlight in my face. I squinted my eyes and turned away but all I could see now was white. It burned my eyes but I only gave a little groan, willing myself not to show them how much pain they were putting me through.

"You're just going to have a nice little nap, now how does that sound?" the man above me asked. I could just barely see his outline as some light reflected off the bottom and sides of the van. It was the second man who'd come out of the alley and hit me with the pipe. I had to bite my tongue until I could feel it bleeding in my mouth just to keep me from saying something I knew I'd regret. I could hear him reach into his pocket and out came another rag. The man in the back handed him a bottle and the rag was doused again, with what I knew had to be more chloroform. "What you did back there was smart, pretending to pass out. But you can only use that card once now, can't you?" I hated more than anything the fact that he was right as the now completely doused rag was pressed to my face. I held my breath for as long as I could before I knew that the man was right. I wouldn't be able to pretend to pass out now. I felt my lungs about to burst as I finally took in a breath, the sickeningly sweet aroma of chloroform invading my mouth and nose. The drowsiness set over me instantly, faster than I would've ever thought possible. My muscles soon relaxed until the last thing I could remember or even feel was my head flopping over and unconsciousness blackening my world once more.


	28. With Just a Dose of You

AN: Sup guys? Back with another chapter, this one is a little bit longer since I've been having so many absences lately. Hope you guys like it, took me a little while to get it all worked up but yea. You should know the drill by now. Read, Review, Enjoy.

With Just a Dose of You

I'm awoken with a sharp slap to the face, my senses suddenly spurring themselves into action. My vision is blurred and my hearing is even worse as I try to understand the words being shouted at me. I'm in a dimly lit room which doesn't do well for my sight. I squint, trying to get a feel for things, trying to figure out where I am or at least. I'm rewarded only with a kick to my stomach and I'm forced to double over with the pain of it. I let out a hoarse yelp and my voice grates on my dry throat. It feels like it's been days since I'd had water or anything to drink. More yells come at me and I can barely comprehend the words but I know the tone is frantic. Whoever is talking to me is in a hurry. They kick me once more, this time in the femur, and it's like everything is instantly thrown into sharp focus.

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO GET UP?" someone screeches at me. I can see them bringing their leg back for another kick but I roll out of the way just in time, every inch of my body aching as I do so. I'm crouched on my feet in seconds before I realize I'm still in my GA uniform and stand up as fast as I can. The man hardly pays any attention to anything besides the fact that I'm now on my feet. He grabs my upper arm roughly, his hand easily wrapping around my bicep as he drags me sharply out of the dim room.

When we emerge outside the room I can see everything is dark, besides the orangey glow of a single streetlamp. It illuminates the dingy parking lot we're in and I can see that I had (for an unknown amount of time) been kept in a storage unit. The single door to it closes and instantly it looks all like the rest of them laid out around it in an organized maze of orderly rows. I barely have enough time to focus on anything else before I'm shoved into the back of a van once more, forced to the side of it. My face is smashed against the cold metal wall as my hands are bound tightly behind me. I struggle against the man but it's no use. He's too strong and I've already missed my one attempt at escape. All there was to do now was wait.

I'm not even given the conscious time to do so as another chloroform soaked rag is pressed against my face. By now I can feel how much the chemical has damaged my lungs and it hurts to intake yet another breath of the vile stuff, but I have no choice. I don't even last 10 seconds before I'm out once more.

I'm not sure how long it is before I wake up the next time. I come to consciousness on my own; blinking into the real world, hoping my eyes will adjust well enough to the pitch black room I'm being kept in. The room is silent save for the sounds of my breathing and a few little creatures that scurry away into the corners as I begin to stir. My wrists are bound, but not with cloth as I'd last remembered them to be, with thin wire wrapped around many times, cutting into my skin more and more each time I moved. I was thankful though that they at least left my feet unbound, and I was able to roll myself over and sit up.

The room smelled musty, of old metal and mold as well as the sour smell of excrement. I could feel my skin coated with it, grimy and dirty, and wondered how I must look. Mona Ryder, one of Gotham's richest teenagers, in her now disgusting and dirty Gotham Academy uniform, beaten and bruised and abused. I bet I looked wild, untamed, and just plain scary. If I knew myself as well as I liked to believe, I would bet that my eyes were wide, golden brown irises searching around even in the dark, hoping to find something useful, something to help, something to get me out of here. I half-wondered to myself if the Press would get suspicious about my multiple kidnappings. Would they think something more serious than me just being a trust fund baby was going on? Would they think that there was another reason Mona Ryder was suddenly so wanted in Gotham? Maybe someone would get too curious, and maybe they'd start to do their research. Maybe, like Babs had, they'd start to see similarities and unexplainable coincidences between me and Owlet. Maybe these string kidnappings would lead to something much worse than being attacked and brought to a place like this.

For a moment I was almost grateful when the door to my "cell" opened, saving me from the silence that pushed my thoughts into boundaries I'd rather not cross. But in a second I knew that being grateful for anything this person brought with them was a big mistake. Their silhouette in the doorway is large and daunting, even for someone like me who'd taken down guys just as big as him. He stands there for a few moments, silent, unmoving. At one point my sanity starved brain even convinces me it's all a hallucination, and I'm glad to believe it. Until he finally does move, faster than I would've ever imagined, grabbing me by the throat and hoisting me to my feet.

He says nothing as he drags me down a seemingly endless hallway, my throat still clutched in his gigantic, mitt-like hands. He walks swiftly and quickly and it's almost useless for me to attempt to catch my balance. I try to get my feet to walk along with his, but he only yanks me along quicker and my legs tumble almost uselessly behind me as my breath is slowly cut off. The world starts to dim when he simply drops me to the floor. I hadn't even noticed we'd stopped until my knees hit the concrete sharply. My hands come up to rest on my thighs as my forehead touches the cool floor. I must've struggled as he brought me here because I can feel blood oozing from my wrists, down my knees and to the floor, yet I can barely register the pain of it anymore.

I can hear the man's footsteps lead away from me, over to a farther corner of the room, and I muster up enough strength and courage to look up and assess my surroundings. The brighter light in the rooms nearly blinds me but I squint through it, analyzing the area around me. As far as I could tell it was just a bigger type of cell. Metal walls. Concrete floors. The unmistakable stench of piss and shit lingering in the air. The type of place guys like that called Home Sweet Home. My attacker stands in a corner, slipping off his thick denim jacket to show only his sweat and blood stained wife-beater and his larger than life muscles. My heart jumps into my throat at the sight of them, but I force myself to calm down and look for an exit. I find it an a few seconds, my momentary hope is dashed by the fact the man is standing maybe 5 or 6 feet away from it. I wouldn't have a chance in the world in my condition against a man so much stronger than me. I must've been lost in my hopeless thoughts, because in a second I'm being kicked in the chest, forcing me on my back. I stare wide eyed up at the man, not completely scared but definitely feeling a little bit of it, and see the iron rod that he must've picked up in the corner, brandishing it wickedly above me.

The iron rod comes back down in a fast arc, the blow landing sharply on my face. It jerks my head back and I can feel the blood pooling in my mouth. My whole body aches with pain, bruises and cuts decorating my skin under my tattered and bloody GA uniform. Another hit strikes me across the sternum, my breath temporarily knocked out of me. I choke for a few moments, gagging on the blood in my mouth as I gasp for air. Cruel laughter echoes above me as my captor surveys their good work.

"Doesn't take much to knock you down, does it, Owlie?" asks the man. I knew he was the man who had initially come after me; it couldn't have been anyone else. The brute strength and cold voice were hints enough.

"Are you kidding?" I wheeze, spitting some blood on the floor. It doesn't even faze me that he knows my identity. What other reason could there have been for kidnapping me? Mona Ryder is practically and ex-Rich Kid. She's living in poverty until she's an adult. And, of course, my actions must've tipped them off as well. It's natural for teen rich kids to know some personal defense, but to exhibit three different types of martial arts in a short span of a few minutes like I just did was more than impressive. It was suspicious. I was foolish to think that they'd initially kidnapped me as Mona Ryder.

"This is nothing," I finally gasp out, a wave of pain crashing over me. I grit my teeth to force a whimper down. I wasn't going to let him see me sweat.

"Cute," he mutters, turning my face with the end of the rod so I'm facing him. I glare into his cold grey eyes but he seems unaffected. "But you must know it's all a lost cause."

"What?" I ask, some of my courage showing through the pain. "Dressing up as an owl and saving people around my city?"

"Is that what you call working for the Cleaner?" he snorts. "Saving people?" he gives a little laugh, shaking his head as he flicks some of my blood off the end of the rod. "No, I was referring to you pretending that you've actually got a chance of winning against a man like Jerome Fincher." His answer is blunt. It's cold. It's harsh. And those simple words send a ripple of hate through my body.

"I did it once," I say slowly. It's more of a reassurance to myself than an argument to battle his. "And I'll do it again."

"I'm not talking about grudges, Ryder," says the man. He towers above me before squatting down to my level. "I'm talking about you being one person against an army. Fincher has friends in higher places than you could ever imagine. He's got more power than you could ever fathom. And yet, you're fighting for your lost cause like you've still got something worth defending."

"Who says it's lost?" I challenge. He laughs coldly and I have to fight the urge to give a shudder.

"They've been dead for a couple of years, Ryder. I don't think 'avenging them' now will give you anything worthwhile, not even closure. So what if you did beat out Fincher? You wouldn't stop going out as Owlet. It's ruling your life. It's taken over. You're a slave to your own creation.

"No," I say, barely audible, hardly in a whisper. The rage in my voice is strong enough to supply the intensity needed. "I'm nobody's slave. Not yours. Not Fincher's, not even Owlet's. I am young. I am free. I'm not letting anything rule my life as long as I have a say." My voice still grows stronger with every word, yet resonates as a low growl. "I am not Owlet. We are two different people and we have two different objectives. I've come to realize that. One of us has to avenge our parents. The other feels the need to fight for justice, because she knows what Fincher does is wrong."

"So which is which?" he asks me with a triumphant smile. I give him a deep glare before slowly leaning back, not rising any suspicion in him until I rear my feet back and kick him in the face. The man immediately falls backward, lying on his face as he groans in pain. Blood gushed from his nose and I thanked whatever God was listening that my feet hadn't been bound along with my hands. I rolled over smoothly so that I was able to bring my legs up and step through my hands that were linked by a thin wire. I stood up, for once towering over my kidnapper as he'd done so many times to me.

"At the moment," I say slowly, some blood dripping out of the corner of my mouth. I wipe it away subconsciously, smearing it down my arm and across my cheek. "The line of separation is a little bit fuzzy." I bring my foot up, aiming a clean kick to his temple. In seconds he's unconscious.

And for a few moments I just stand there, looking down at this man. I had defeated him. I had come out victorious this time. I felt empowered, and invincible. I felt just plain strong. I was a small teenage girl, and I'd been able to take everything that had been thrown at me. It was somewhat of a conundrum, really. Mona Ryder wasn't particularly interesting or special. Maybe a little tragic. The same went for Owlet, who was really only mysterious and lethal. But when you put them together they become so much more. They become separate symbols of their corresponding areas of society. They're responsible for inspiring the self-confidence in one another. Mona and Owlet really had each other to thank for their success.

"But that doesn't bring us any closer to getting out of here," I mutter under my breath. I bring my hand up to my mouth, doing my best to untwist the tight wire around my wrists. It's a slow going and I'm grateful the man doesn't wake up by the time I'm through. It leaves my mouth bloodier, with my dry and cracked lips now cut in various places and my tongue bleeding into my mouth. I ignore it all, switching from self-defense to detective mode as I kneel down to the man, searching him for anything useful. I find a name badge identifying him as John Leeson and a key ring with 4 different keys on it. There's a gun in a holster on his side, but I only take the magazine and any other that I find from him, essentially disarming him without carrying the gun myself. Finally I take the pipe from him, and let myself out of the room.

The hallway I slip into is dark and smells musty, like there was a flood that nobody cleaned up after. The air was damp and hot and pressed down on my lungs every time I took a breath in. I crept along the walls, holding the keys tight in my hand so that they wouldn't make any noise. For a long while it felt like I wasn't even going anywhere, and that I was simply lost in the darkness until a single bare light bulb that hung dimly from the ceiling illuminated my way. There were two hallways that branched off of this one. From the grimy signs hanging on the walls I could see one led to the sub-holding rooms and the other led to the main docking area. I doubted that there anything even slightly of value in this place, besides me acting as the prisoner, so it would've been nearly useless to go check out the other holding rooms, not to mention a gigantic waste of time. I made up my mind instantly and snuck down the hall to the docking area.

It was about 10 or 15 minutes before I heard anything, and when I did it was only a faint conversation echoing lightly off the walls, which had slowly changed from moldy drywall to grimy metal. I pressed myself against the wall anyway, hoping to catch any tidbits of information that might help me escape, but the words were unintelligible, either because of the distance or the mumbling that they were spoken in. After a while I decided to keep going, knowing that it would be sooner or later before someone realized I had escaped watched custody. How long that would be was anyone's guess, but I wasn't going to take any chances. Not when I was already injured, not when I had no idea where I was or what I was up against, and especially not when the only thing I was armed with a metal pipe.

When it finally started getting a little lighter in the tunnels I knew I was growing ever closer to the docking area, and thus the exit. I tried to be even stealthier, creeping silently through the shadows, wondering what lay ahead of me when I finally got to an open area. The hallway led me to a balcony that circled around the perimeter of the giant room. On the wall across from me were four giant doors that looked to be rigged to mechanically open. Outside the large windows that circled the room I could see it was late in the afternoon, almost dusk, as the nearly setting sun threw dark oranges throughout the warehouse. I could see a large body of water outside the warehouse and beyond that the blurred and dark skyline of a city that I didn't recognize, with a large bridge crossing over a bay. One thing was for certain; I was not in Gotham.

Armed guards stood by the doors, four or five of them stationed in front of each one and even a few in-between. There weren't as many on the balcony overlooking the room, but I could see a few stationed in the corners, maybe four in total. From what I could see down in the room there was a large empty area in the middle where I could see a table with maybe half-dozen or so men sitting at it. The rest of the room was filled with storage crates, some piled high, making a labyrinth of hiding places around the outside of the room. From the table in the center to the doors there was a clear path, a straight shot to freedom but absolutely no coverage from enemy attacks. After tallying up the odds I realized that it was me against 25+ armed guards. My chances weren't looking good. I was almost wishing I'd taken the gun, just to have some leverage here.

But that's not how Batman would do it. He wouldn't care about their guns, or even need his own. He'd use brute force and sheer strength and terrifying wit to beat them all, physically and mentally. But Batman was also an adult male, who had the technical advantage of a utility belt as well as the protection of an armored suit. Me? I had none of that and I was already weakened from at least a day without food and being beaten with a metal pipe. This was just not going my way at all.

_We've gotten through worse,_ Owlet tells me in my head.

_Like what?_

_Like practically fighting Bane single-handedly and getting our arm broken then escaping police custody_ she answers snidely. I give a little internal groan.

_I had Seer for that. I've only got me now._

_And that's all you should ever need. _I can't help thinking she's right on some level. More than half my problems would be solved if I only looked out for myself. But I'm a human. I have feelings. I have friends. It doesn't always work that way. At the moment I didn't feel anything but vulnerable, though. I was alone, unprepared, weaponless, and ready to pass out on my feet. Going out there would be sheer suicide. But then again, so would waiting here for someone to find me.

_So what'll it be? _Owlet asks. _Go out in a blaze of glory and have a better chance at survival or wait like a sitting duck to be slaughtered?_

_I thought sheep were the ones brought to slaughter._

_Answer the question, Ryder._

_Fine, _I give a little sigh out loud, wondering if it was unhealthy to argue with my other persona in my head. _Guess we'll go out with a bang._

I don't even let Owlet respond before sneaking out from my hiding spot in the hallway, creeping onto the balcony. The grates under my feet are flimsy; some rusted almost completely through in places, but mostly were loosely fitting together. My first step awards me the clinking of metal together, and the guard closest to me, maybe 10 or so feet away, turns at the noise, noticing me in a second. With nothing to lose, I run towards him, clattering the grates as I go. He doesn't seem prepared for me and his gun comes up too late. I strike out at him with the pipe, jabbing him in the diaphragm. He doubles over, out of breath, and I'm able to maneuver myself behind him so that we're back to back. For a moment I lean on him heavily before hooking the pipe in front of his neck and rocking forward quickly, cutting his breath off in seconds. He struggles against me for a few moments then finally passes out, going still and falling against me. Rolling out from underneath him, I slip into a hasty fighting stance, surveying the scene around me.

By now people were finally away of my existence. A few shouted out surprised orders and the other few guards on the platform start making a run for me. It takes a few seconds for my head to figure things out, to get a plan of action at least semi-made, and when the other guards are maybe five feet away from me I slip through the barred rails of the balcony, falling quickly to the top of a crate waiting under me. I let my momentum from the fall carry me to an acrobat-esque type flip off the box before landing on the floor, crouching to accommodate my extra energy. Guards are already running to my spot but I'm on my feet again in a moment's notice, barreling through the maze of boxes, taking twists and turns, hoping to lose at least a few of them. The room, which had once been about as silent as the grave, was now loud and alive with action as the guards clammered to find me, footsteps loud on the cement floor and the metal grates. The men in the middle shouted orders, some of them sounding frantic as if losing me would be detrimental to their overall plan.

_You know,_ I say in my head, taking a sharp turn around a large crate only to find a gunman in sunglasses waiting for me. I instantly lash out with the iron rod, nailing the man in the knee. I don't even wait for him to react before smashing the rod into his forehead. He crumples to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, making only a muffled sound on impact. _There's a surprising about of people here to make sure one person doesn't escape. Even if that person is me. It seems just a little bit too suspicious…_ The thought bugs me as I creep past the unconscious guard. As far as I can tell he's the only one closest to me, which meant for now I was relatively hidden. I stuck to the shadows as much as I could, which were growing every second as the sun went down. For a few minutes the entire place is rocked only by the sounds of confused guards until a single voice breaks through.

"Come out, come out wherever you are, Ryder," somebody sing songs, their voice lyrical and cold as it rings out. All the hushed mutters of the guards ceases immediately until it's the only sound in the large room. It echoes off the walls and reverberates in my ears, chilling me to the core. I would recognize that voice anywhere: Jerome Fincher. "There's no need to hide from me. I don't want you dead. Well," he chuckles slowly to himself. "Not yet anyway."

I curse under my breath. I had known almost from the beginning that Fincher was a part of this, but I had never expected him to be here now. What could he possibly need to see me for besides killing me? What was the point of orchestrating this whole event if he wasn't even planning on killing me now? And if he was planning on killing me later, what larger purpose in his plan did I serve? The questions gnawed as me, each one bothering me more and more until I finally couldn't take it. Standing tall I make my way out of the labyrinth of crates, stepping out into the open. The sky is a deep indigo now, almost completely black as velvet without a star marring it's perfect and intimidating elegance. I'm little more than a shadow as I push past armed guards. Some take in little gasps as I appear before them, seemingly out of nowhere, my footsteps making no sounds. Finally, I'm completely out in the open amidst the scattered guards, standing in front of the 7 or so men who had been seated at the table. In the middle, closest to me, stands Fincher.

He seems to have grown decades older in the month we've been apart. His salt and pepper hair had grown to be mostly grey and the bags under his eyes were dark and heavy as if he hadn't been sleeping. His face is haggard and skin pallid and pale. When he sees me he gives a smile and it's hard not to cringe away from his yellowing teeth. This isn't the high and mighty man I almost lost my life to. The man I'd fought before was the way the public had viewed Jerome Fincher. He was a good looking man for his age, tall and healthy and vibrant. But this man was a reflection of what Fincher really was. He was disgusting and evil and horrible, all twisted into his black soul that barely made him human. Finally the outside showed what was on the inside. Finally Gotham could be able to judge a book by its cover, if they were ever able to see Fincher.

"Hello," he greets warmly. He steps forward and for a moment I'm almost scared he's going to hug me. But he only holds out a hand, a friendly gesture laced in irony and insult that isn't lost on me. I consider ignoring it, but that would mean letting him get to me. Instead, I shake his hand, disregarding the feeling of disgust rising up in me. "It's so nice to see you again, Mona."

"I can't say the same," I growl, retracting my hand as soon as possible. I glare at him through the darkness, hoping that my golden-brown eyes pierce his own dull grey ones.

"I know we've had our differences, Mona, but we're all in the same boat here, aren't we?" he asks me, and, even though I'm struck with genuine shock at the statement, I try my best not to show it.

"And what boat would that be?" I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest. Ignoring the aches and pains in my body was easier when I was moving, when there was something else to focus on. But now that the only distraction I had was word-sparring with Fincher it was a lot harder to disregard them. "Because I don't ever remember boarding it with you."

"Oh, don't play so hostile, Mona. You should know perfectly well what I'm referring to."

"Gosh, seem to have forgotten. Mind refreshing my memory?"

"Think about it, Mona. We're both hated criminals in Gotham. What other binding link could there be in a community like ours?" he asks me, another slimy smile creeping onto his face. I snarl at him but don't answer. "What, too shy to admit your little dealings with the Cleaner? It's no secret you're a double player, Ryder. Especially not in the rogue society of Gotham. What made you do it, hm? Bored of living under the bat's thumb? Itching for a good rush? Don't be bashful about it, we'd all understand." Fincher lets a little laugh out. It may have been small but I'm able to hear the barely contained sanity in it. Jerome Fincher was breaking. "I mean, we've all been there."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you'd know all about that, Fincher," I start coldly, glaring at him through my grimy and sweaty bangs that hung into my eyes. "Throwing away years of building on a company meant to promote better and humane conditions for the world to murder a couple of scientists you didn't agree with."

His charming façade slips off in a second and his smile, which had looked uncomfortable and beyond fake, immediately turned into a full out snarl. He was practically gnashing his teeth at me. "Like you'd understand any of that, Ryder. You were a child then, and you're a child now. You can't even begin to fathom the choices we all must make."

I can't help my disgusted scoff as it slips out of my mouth, harshly echoing in the room. "You make it sound like you were fighting for the greater good, Fincher. You make it sound like killing my parents was a blessing to the world. And in reality what did you accomplish? Nothing. In fact, you made yourself an enemy out of 3 Gotham vigilantes, was toppled from your CEO position at HAVEN, and painted a target on your forehead. Where in this scenario did you come out on top?"

I'd forgotten how fast Fincher was from our last encounter, and in my blind rage he easily darted forward. In a second his hand was curled around my throat, just barely squeezing my trachea, enough to make my breaths turn into hoarse gasps. His face, too close to mine for comfort, contorted into an expression of pure hatred and fury as he bared his teeth at me menacingly. I could see a large vein popping out in his forehead and as I look closer I can see how much he seems to have aged in the short span of a month and a few weeks. I wipe the surprise off my face, replacing it easily with a look of superiority, though once Fincher catches a look at it his snarl grows even deeper.

"What's the smug look for, Ryder?" he spits at me, saliva peppering my face. I do my best to ignore the feeling of disgust welling up inside of me.

"You're still fighting and I've already won," is all I tell him, a smirk now pulling the corners of my lips up.

"What are you talking about?" he demands, shouting now in the silent room. From my peripheral vision I can see his hired guards shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Some still held their guns up at the ready, prepared for Fincher's command, while others had already relaxed their guns to the side, watching before them as the confrontation went down.

"Have you seen yourself lately? You're getting older, Fincher. You can't handle the stress. You're cracking, it's getting to you, crawling under your skin, beneath your eyelids until it's all you can think about and see, even when you close your eyes and try to sleep. You've become obsessed with this." I can't help it as a dark little laugh echoes from my mouth, making me seem more confident than I really am. "You're losing sight of the finish line."

"You think you're beating me?!" he roars in my face, putrid breath filling my nostrils. "You think that you're coming out on top?! Not this time, Ryder!" Without even turning from me, Fincher thrusts his free hand behind him, his wide and feral eyes never losing contact with mine. "Petro. Knife." A roundish man with greasy hair steps forward, pulling a knife from his pinstriped suit. He makes eye contact with me, his beady brown eyes analyzing me before his thin lips pull up in a sneer of a smile. There's a long scar running down the left side of his face, making the skin sag more on the side so he look lopsided. He hands the knife to Fincher, who plucks it from the Petro's pudgy fingers, each one with at least one ring shoved onto it. Slowly, Fincher brings the knife up to my face, his hand loosely holding the hilt, almost tenderly, as the blade traces delicately along my jawline.

"So, what?" I ask him quietly. My breaths are long and loud in the room, but it feels like it's only me and Fincher present. "You going to end it here? After all we've gone through you're just going to run a knife through me and call it even? Disappointing. I thought you would've been up for more of the theatrical ending." I can't help but think my goading is only going to get me into more trouble, but honestly, at that moment, what did I have to lose? Nothing. So why not put all my cards out on the table for everyone to see? Things could only go the way fate would play them out. And tonight, right now, I was taking all my chances.

Fincher chuckles, and it's another one where I can tell he's slipping from the man he used to be, the man I used to fear with all my being. The laughs are detached, as if they're more of an obligation to insert into the conversation instead of an actual reaction to what I'd said. "Oh, Mona," he croons to me, like I'm 6 instead of almost 16. "I'm not going to kill you here. Not now. The timing is wrong, can't you feel it? No, no, no…" Fincher drags the knife up from my neck to my cheek. I can see it out of the corner of my eye, but I have to strain to do so. "I'm only going to remind you that you're not near as powerful as you think." He digs the blade into my skin so that it's painful but not yet causing me to bleed. "And one day, your little world will all come crashing down around you… And you'll be sitting there in the middle of all the chaos that I've orchestrated, wondering how you could've fallen… so… far… down…" With every word the knife digs deeper into my skin until he's got me wincing away from it. Fincher only tightens his hold on my throat, a wicked smile gleaming on his face as blood begins to drip down mine. "And just know I'll be there to witness it all."

"Unlikely." A flash of metal zooms between Fincher and me, nailing him in the forearm. He jerks his arms back and I immediately stagger away, catching my breath and wiping my face on the grimy sleeve of my GA uniform. Emerging from the darkness I can see Robin, taking down guards as he goes. In seconds he's standing next to me, barley out of breath as he does so. I'd been so focused on Fincher and the knife I hadn't noticed the guards that were dropping like flies. He's already taken down 7 or 8, in addition to the two he'd just instilled temporary paralysis on. He stands at the ready, two wooden poles clutched in his hands, no doubt from the harbor we're situated on. He wields them like a couple of eskrima sticks, holding them so the jagged end protrudes forward, no doubt where he'd snapped a single pole in half. A little smile sneaks onto my face as he appears and a little part of me is relieved by his presence.

"What took you so long?" I ask, trying to joke off the panic that had been building in me since I'd first escaped. The attempt at humor hangs lightly in the air.

"Gee, sorry, Ryder. But you're not always the easiest person to find. Especially when you suddenly end up in Blüdhaven after being missing for over 24 hours." I blink back my surprise but can't help as it washes over my face.

"It's Saturday already?" I ask myself. From my peripheral Robin tenses up, the muscles in his jaw clenching. "They'll probably kick me out of GA soon with all the class I'm missing." I eye Robin's utility belt, seeing what I was looking for in seconds. I smoothly slip the extendable bo staff out of its holster, holding it in front of me as if snaps open and I slip into a fighting stance that mirrors his.

"Did I say you could use that?" he asks jokingly. He turns away from me to face off a gunman who was rushing him with the butt of his automatic. Though I can't see exactly what he does I hear the guard grunt and fall heavily to the floor. In seconds I'm engaged in a fight as well as another man comes at me, swinging wildly with his gun after realizing I was actually a threat now.

"It's alright," I say, slamming the end of the bo staff into the man's face before sweeping his feet out from under him. "I'm just borrowing it."

"That's what you said when you took the last one," Rob replies. I can feel his cape grace my back as he fights off another few guards.

"Touché," I say with a smile, fending off another attack. I spin the bo staff and swiftly get another guards' gun caught up in it, making it clatter to the floor as I butt him with the end of the staff. "They're just so damn handy."

"Don't have to tell me." Before I really know what's going on, Robin seems to be everywhere at once. First he's behind me, and then flips to the side where he takes down a few more guards, even tying up one who was attempting to flee the scene. In an instant he's in front of me, slamming a gunman incessantly with the makeshift eskrima sticks, to his temple, his major pressure points, the inside of his knees, and finally butting the end of the stick into his stomach. The attack took less than 30 seconds with Rob's hands moving at top speeds, a blur most of the time really. The man crumples down soon after, leaving me and the other guards to stand and gawk at him.

"You are so teaching me that," I tell him as he discards his now splintered poles to the side.

"As long as you remind me to use those more often," he says. I give a quick laugh, turning from him and bracing myself for another attack when I'm pulled off roughly; Robin's gloved hand tight on mine. He yanks me past the fallen guards and into the darkest area of the warehouse. As we get closer to the doors I can see the spot where he's used one of Batsy's gadgets to prop the heavy door open, just enough for someone our size to fit under. After we roll out he kicks the support out from under the door and it slams down, echoing around the bay. Yet again he pulls me, but this time to the side of the building where he's stashed his motorbike. He works quickly, getting his helmet out and quickly handing me one and taking and collapsing the Bo staff before I'm pulled onto the bike behind him. I barely have enough time to hold onto him before he revs it to life and takes off.

Unfamiliar streets and buildings pass us by yet he's going too fast for me to take any of it in. All I can really see if the confused pedestrians and people in the cars watch us as we zoom through traffic, weaving through the vehicles piled up on the main road to the bridge that apparently led to Gotham. From what I can see Blüdhaven doesn't look all that drastically different from Gotham, which makes sense considering they're sister cities. After all while of going through the main city we end up on the bridge, when Robin starts to go even faster, a blur among the other vehicles. In front of me I can see him reach up and activate his comms unit. The wind is too loud in my ears to really understand what he's saying, but I'm able to piece together "I have her" before the connection drops. No doubt he was talking to Batman, and was only waiting to get a safe enough distance away from the warehouse before radioing in.

It hits me then as my adrenalin rush begins to wear off. This boy keeps me alive. I can't even recall all the times he's saved Mona or Owlet, emotionally and physically. He's always been there for me. He's always ready to fight for me or with me. It's kind of phenomenal how he seems to always be on the lookout, to always be ready. Without him I'm not sure where I'd be, and all I really want to do at the moment is tell him how much I honestly appreciate everything he does, how lost I know I would be without him there, how critical he is to have in my life. It's an honest fact that I'd be dead or worse without Dick Grayson on my side. I hang onto him tighter, my arms curling around his midsection under his cape as I lay my head on his back, trying my best to ignore the cold winds rushing past us as he speeds along. And for the first time in a while I actually feel safe.


End file.
